


Hope of Innocents

by Disneymagics



Series: Innocents 'verse [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Abused Jensen, Age Regression/De-Aging, Broken Jensen, Caring Jared, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Jensen, Hurt Jensen Ackles, Hurt/Comfort, Infantilism, Mentions of past child abuse, Non-sexual, Protective Christian, Protective Jared, Younger Jensen, emotional infantilism, mental age regression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 15:18:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3733681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Disneymagics/pseuds/Disneymagics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing could have prepared Jared for what he sees when he walks into that hospital room at his friend, Christian's, request.  Sure, he knows the boy has been abused horribly by his parents, he knows the boy is scared of everyone except Christian, he knows the boy is malnourished.  But there are some things that can't be explained, they can only be seen.  This is the story of how they get from here to there, together.  AU Younger!abused!Jensen</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a difficult one to tell and you may need an open mind to read it. There are some aspects, I'm sure, that won't seem completely realistic so I claim creative license right here at the very beginning. This story is a prequel to Nightmares of Innocents. Reading that one first is advised. :)

[](http://disneymagics.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/393/7470)

Hope of Innocents

_Prologue_

_Six years ago_

"Jar-ed! Come on, you promised you'd watch scary movies with me tonight!" Megan whines in that high-pitched, grating register that only pre-pubescent, little sisters can get away with. She's standing in the doorway to his bedroom, one hand on her hip, the other clutching three DVD boxes. The Scream trilogy.

Heaving a monstrous sigh, Jared shuts down his laptop and pushes up from where he's slouching against the headboard on top of his childhood comforter. "Remind me why you aren't trick-or-treating with your friends or going to a Halloween party tonight," he says even as he stands and stretches. He had promised after all. At twenty years old and a college junior, Jared prides himself on being a man of his word.

"I'm too old for trick-or-treating," she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Then she gets to the real reason. "Besides, Cammie went to the lake for the weekend with her parents and Ginny is staying the night with Nadia." The hurt is hidden by a nonchalant tone, but Jared recognizes it anyway. Being left out is never fun.

Slinging an arm over his kid sister's shoulder, he breaks out his most ridiculous, spooky voice, complete with fake Transylvanian accent. "Very well then, pipsqueak, it's just you and me for a night of chills, thrills, and all the Skittles we can stuff in our faces."

"You're a candy slut, you know that, right?" she giggles, pretending to stagger under the weight of his arm while they walk down the hall to the living room.

"Language young lady. Do mom and dad know about that filthy mouth of yours?"

His mock reprimand is met with an eye roll. "Right, like mom and dad can hear me from the cruise ship."

"Well, maybe they can't hear you, but I can and since I'm babysitting..."

This is a recurring argument and a source of constant amusement for Jared. Because of the large difference in their ages, eight years, their parents have always relied on Jared to take care of his little sister. When other parents had worried about leaving their children at home alone, the Padalecki's had never hesitated.

Right on cue, Megan corrects, "It's called keeping me company, not babysitting. I'm not a baby anymore, Jared."

"Fine, fine, I'm keeping you company." And really it's not a huge hardship - keeping her company, being there for her when she needs him. He enjoys being a big brother. He always has.

Waving her toward the DVD player, he heads into the kitchen. "You put in the first movie; I'll get the snacks."

The stream of trick-or-treaters has trickled off and they probably won't get many more so Jared grabs the bowl of candy from the kitchen counter. As long as he's watching movies on Halloween with his little sister instead of going out with his friends or writing his journalism paper he might as well do it up right and make it a night to remember. Mom keeps candles and matches in the sideboard of the fancy dining room set for special occasions. He makes a detour to grab them before turning all the lights in the house off and settling down on the couch in front of the TV.

"Hey, why'd you turn out the lights?" Megan asks as the opening credits for the first Scream movie begin to roll.

"We can't watch scary movies with the lights on," he explains. Then he follows up just to make sure. "That's not gonna be a problem is it? Do scary movies give you nightmares?" It's kind of a stupid question because the whole point of this evening was to introduce Megan to the wonders of slasher flicks. She hasn't watched anything scarier than The Sixth Sense before now so how would she know if they give her nightmares?

Still, she answers right away. "I don't get nightmares."

She sounds confident enough that Jared shelves his protective nature and lights the candles. The wicks flicker to life, creating just the right mood. Shadows dance at the periphery of his vision and vanish when he turns his head to catch them. Grinning, he looks at his sister. She grins back, delighted, reaches into the bowl of candy for a Kit Kat, and stretches out on the sofa, head on a pillow and socked feet in his lap.

"Don't fall asleep. I'm not carrying you up to bed if you do," he warns.

She throws the candy wrapper at his head. They both know he's full of shit.

_Chapter 1_

_Present_

The lighting in the bar is filtered, shades pulled over the windows to block the afternoon sun. It's unusual for them to be out drinking at this time of day, but Christian had asked to meet him here and Jared would do anything for his best friend. Dropping everything at a moment's notice to meet him for drinks at their favorite bar is kind of a no brainer on the scale of things Jared would do for Christian. He knows the feeling is mutual.

Christian swirls the last of the beer at the bottom of his bottle. There's tension in the set of his shoulders and anger in the hard downward curl of his mouth. He's hunched forward on his barstool in a manner completely uncharacteristic of his normal lazy sprawl over drinks with friends.

"When I think about what they did to that poor kid – their own son – for all those years, it makes me…" Christian trails off, shaking his head savagely and downing the last of his beer in one long pull. "Honestly, Jared, I think I could murder them in cold blood and not even think twice about it."

The story is a brutal one. Jared has heard most of it already and it makes his skin crawl.

The police precinct had received a call from a concerned neighbor who had heard loud screaming and yelling coming from the house next door. Christian, expecting a case of domestic violence, had taken the call. He'd been cautious, wanting as much information about what he was facing inside the house as he could get.

Instead of going straight to the front door, he'd gone around back where he had been just in time to look through a bay kitchen window and see a woman pull a long-handled carving knife from a drawer and plunge it into a teenage boy.

Christian had broken the back door down and saved the boy's life.

"After what you've told me, I don't think a jury would convict you if you did – kill them, I mean."

Running his blunt thumbnail under the label of his own bottle, Jared motions to the bartender for another round. He's rarely seen his friend so upset about an investigation and subsequent arrest. Christian's usually able to shake off the horrible stuff that comes from being a police officer in a medium-sized city. This case has really gotten under his skin though and Jared is hoping to see the return of his friend's typically mellow mood sometime soon.

"The worst part is there's no public record he even exists other than a birth certificate. He's eighteen years old and he's never been to school, he's never had any contact with people who didn't treat him like shit. I've talked with all the neighbors and most of them didn't even know he was living in that house." Christian is talking fast, spitting the words out viciously and getting more furious by the second.

The bartender slides two full bottles in front of Jared who hands one to Christian, quickly moving his friend's empty bottle out of the way. As riled up as the cop is, Jared wouldn't put it past the man to start throwing things and while there aren't enough people in the bar on a Wednesday afternoon to worry about anyone getting hurt, it is one of their favorite hang outs. It would suck to get banned.

"He's been kept prisoner in that house, treated worse than a fucking dog, his entire life." Christian thumps his hand on the counter, palm side down. "You'd think he'd be like a feral animal and the thing is...in some ways he does act like something wild and terrified. He has no social skills whatsoever. But he's also sweet and…God, he craves affection, melts at a gentle touch." Emotion seems to overwhelm him, his nostrils flaring, and Christian stops to rake a hand through his long hair. "It's…fuck, I can't even describe it. I can't describe him. You should come by the hospital to meet him."

The look his friend gives him is both hopeful and like maybe he isn't telling him everything. But why is Christian being secretive?

Skeptical, Jared asks, "What do you mean 'come meet him'? Why would I need to come meet him? What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing, I'm not…I've just been thinking is all."

Oh no, this doesn't sound good. Jared wonders if he should start backing away slowly; make a run for it while he still has the chance.

"Thinking about what?" he demands.

"Okay, so…you know how you've been trying to adopt a kid for a while now?"

"Yeah," Jared draws the word out slowly, all the while watching his friend's face for some clue as to what's going on behind those intense, blue eyes.

Adoption has been a dream of Jared's for a long time now. Not that Megan can be replaced. It's not about her even though she's rarely far from his thoughts.

No, it isn't about Meggie, but it's something he knows he'd be good at, a way to makes amends, something he wants with all his heart and something he's painfully beginning to realize will probably never happen.

He's been to every agency in the State, answered dozens of ads looking for adoptive parents, spoken to social workers and case workers and advocates for pregnant teenagers. Everywhere he's gone he's heard the same thing – it's nearly impossible for a single man to adopt a child. Foster? Maybe. Adopt? Never.

His hopes have been dashed time and time again. He's about ready to give up.

Christian knows all this.

With a sigh, his friend looks down at his hands where they're wrapped around his fresh bottle of Samuel Adams, condensation rolling down the cool glass and onto his fingers. Softly he says, "The doctors think Jensen has been abused - not just neglected - his whole life."

Jensen. The boy whose mother had stabbed him with a kitchen knife. The boy whose name they only know because the police had found it on his birth certificate. His parents don't use his name when they speak of him and the boy himself doesn't seem to talk.

For the first time since walking into the bar this afternoon, Jared really looks and sees the exhaustion in his friend's posture, the smudges under his eyes, the deep furrows in his brow. And it hits him – this isn't just another case to Christian. This isn't just some kid. Christian is in deep. He truly cares about the boy. He's nearly out of his mind with worry.

Thunking his bottle on top of the bar, Christian continues, "They've found patterns of long-term abuse, poorly healed broken bones, deep bruising, malnutrition. Shit Jared, he's so skinny I wonder how long they've been starving him. Did they ever feed him or did he have to scrounge for food?" There's a long pause while Christian's jaw clenches and unclenches, the muscles in his cheek bunching repeatedly. "And then there are the behavioral issues. He's fucking scared of everything and everyone. Cringes away from the doctors, the nurses, tries to hide whenever anyone he doesn't know comes into the room for fuck's sake. He's gonna end up pulling all the stitches out of his stomach."

"Can't they sedate him? To stop him from hurting himself?" Jared doesn't know a lot about hospital protocol, but it seems like common sense to him, especially for someone as traumatized as this boy seems to be.

His friend sighs and runs a hand through his hair again, brushing it out of his eyes with an agitated flick of his wrist. "No, they can't. Pain meds make him sleepy enough and he's so damn skinny any drugs they give him hit him hard." In frustration, Christian slams his fist into the countertop.

Jared nods, doesn't know what to say. His heart breaks, both for the boy and Christian, and he feels his eyes fill with unshed tears. He wants to help, but this is so far beyond anything he feels ready for. Psychology isn't one of the subjects he studied in college. His journalism degree isn't going to be much help. Journalism and sociology don't share any core competencies.

Still, he has to ask, "What can I do?"

The soft rock song playing on overhead speakers comes to an end and the next song begins while Christian swipes a bead of moisture off his bottle with the pad of his thumb.

"He needs someone to take care of him, Jared. He won't make it if they institutionalize him. He can't-" Voice cracking, Christian looks up at Jared, eyes big and pleading. "I know an eighteen year old isn't exactly what you had in mind but…he needs you."

Jared's breath catches in his lungs as though the air has become as dense as lead. With a concerted effort, he clears his throat.

"When can I meet him?'

~~*~~*~*~~*~~

A sign on the door says, 'Knock first. Please do not come in unless granted permission.'

From the hallway, Christian cracks the hospital room door open, peaks through the tiny opening as though he's on a secret mission of some kind, and eases it closed again before turning to Jared. "Okay, he's awake so give me about five minutes with him and then come in."

It all seems a little bit cloak and dagger to Jared, a little like overkill. Yes, he's aware that Jensen's extremely shy. And with very good reason. But this sneaking around, the sign, it all strikes Jared as odd.

Through the door that Christian leaves ajar, Jared can hear his friend speaking softly to someone, although the actual words are indecipherable. A second voice answers which surprises Jared since Christian had been very clear when he'd explained that Jensen doesn't speak.

There's a shuffling sound and then the door opens slightly, a dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes squeezing between the door and the frame like he's jealously guarding whatever or whoever is in that room. His hair is shorter than Christian's, not so much styled as giving the impression of being freshly tousled. The man gives him an appraising look, lips pressed together in a thin line. Then he smiles, making Jared feel as though he's passed a test of some sort, and holds out a hand.

"Hello, you must be Jared. I'm Misha." They shake hands and Jared barely has a moment to wonder who Misha is and what he's doing in Jensen's room before the man continues. "He knows you're here to see him, but go slowly. He's scared."

It's obvious Misha is talking about Jensen and it's also obvious he's anxious about what's going to happen next. Concern is evident in the quick glance he sends over his shoulder at the room behind him and in the tight knot between his eyebrows when his gaze returns to Jared.

Jared's pulse thrums and he realizes that he's nervous too, scared he's going to make a wrong move, say the wrong thing. It's suddenly clear to him how much of a catastrophe this meeting with Jensen could turn out to be if handled incorrectly.

"And take it easy on Christian too. He's sorta out of his depth, but he's doing the best he knows how." With those cryptic words, Misha gives him a sad smile and walks off down the long, white corridor.

Resolving to ask Christian what that was all about later, Jared pushes the door wider and steps inside.

The sight he's greeted with is absolutely heart wrenching…and the strangest thing he's ever seen.

The boy – young man, really – lying in the hospital bed is skinny to the point of being gaunt. His prominent collarbones poke out of the neck opening in the hospital gown which he appears to be swimming in.

Various tubes crisscross each other on their way to needles inserted into the veins inside his elbows. A large lump under the covers denotes where the padding and bandages covering his stab wound must be.

Freckles dot his pale skin, his eyes are wide with fear and his thumb is planted firmly in his mouth.

The young man is sucking on his thumb.

But that's not the strangest part.

Half reclining, half sitting on the bed next to him, arms wrapped firmly around the boy's upper body and murmuring into his ear…is Christian.

Badass, tough guy, first in his class at the police academy, Christian Kane.

Nothing could have prepared him to see his best friend playing the dual roles of security blanket and human restraint for a terrified eighteen year old boy.

Jensen gives every indication of wanting to bolt, from the stiff way he's holding his body to the frantic twitching of his long, thin fingers where one hand tangles in the bed sheet and the other curls around his nose. He swallows hard and Jared can see the muscles in his throat working.

Chris shifts around so he can hold the young man's back against his chest one-handed and begins to stroke his dark blond hair, whispering to him all the while.

Jensen's hair is medium length, but it looks as though it's been recently cut by someone with more compassion than actual skill as evidenced by the uneven edges at the side of his head. Jared wonders who Jensen might have let near him with a pair of scissors. One of the nurses? Christian? He tries to picture his friend trimming Jensen's hair and just can't see it.

Jared stares, amazed, until he remembers how tall he is and how intimidating he probably looks from Jensen's position on the bed. There's a chair on the far side of the room, one of those really hard plastic numbers. It's far enough away to put a comfortable amount of distance between them and still be well within Jensen's line of sight. Slowly, he backs up and sits when he feels the seat hit the backs of his calves. He feels a little like he's sitting on a kindergarten chair, his body folded at an unnatural angle.

Their gazes meet and Christian nods his approval, giving Jared a wink over the top of Jensen's head before turning his full attention back to the boy. "There, see. It's all good, kiddo. That's just Jared. I've been telling you about him. He's one of the good guys."

Careful to keep his movements small and non-threatening, Jared raises one hand in a wave and smiles. "Hey, Jensen."

Bright spots of color stain Jensen's cheeks at the greeting and he squirms onto his side, heedless of the tubes attached to his arms. Burrowing as close to Christian as he can get, the boy ducks his head and looks over at Jared through lowered lashes.

"Easy does it. Don't pull your IV out again. The nurse could barely find a vein last time. You don't wanna go through that again, do you?" Christian asks, a light teasing note in his voice.

Jensen frowns around his thumb and, yawning, makes himself comfortable by snuggling closer and smushing his face into Christian's stomach so that he's almost lying on top of him. Then he very deliberately closes his eyes as if to demonstrate that he's no longer listening.

Christian chuckles, "Fine, you can ignore me, but you know I'm right."

As frightened and timid as he is, there's something captivating about this boy. Something compelling. Jared can understand how his friend got himself in so deep, so fast.

Then again…

"Dude, I gotta ask – how did this happen?"

"What?" Christian feigns ignorance.

"This!" Jared makes a sweeping arm gesture meant to encompass the entire situation at the hospital with special emphasis on the bed sharing and cuddling which is so out of character for his best friend.

Even with his eyes closed, Jensen flinches at the sharp tone and Christian automatically rubs his back in a soothing motion as though he's done it a thousand times before.

He shrugs and says, "For some reason, I'm the only one he trusts enough to do this. If I'm here," Christian points at his spot on the bed, "he lets the doctors and nurses do what they need to do to take care of him. If I'm not, he won't let anyone touch him. His primary doctor doesn't want to use any more drugs than absolutely necessary, so they can't sedate him. He's worried about the possible side effects of additional medication. The only other recourse they have is to restrain him and I can't let that happen. Not after everything else he's been through."

"You didn't tell me all this before."

Jared feels a little betrayed by his friend's omissions. It's stupid, he knows, but it feels like Christian has been keeping a really big secret from him because, from what Jared knows of the case, Jensen has been in the hospital for almost a week now. Christian is apparently very comfortable with being here and that means he's been doing this for Jensen, being here for him, all that time without mentioning his level of involvement to Jared.

"I told you I couldn't describe him. You had to see him for yourself. Would you have understood if I'd tried to explain this to you?"

Jared has to admit that he probably wouldn't have. Instead of saying that out loud, he points out, "He feels safe with you."

"Mmm hmm," Christian hums his agreement, "And he's beginning to accept Misha too. That's why I felt now would be a good time to have you come by to meet him."

That reminds him of his questions regarding the strange man who had come out of Jensen's hospital room earlier. "Who is Misha? Why is he interested in Jensen?"

Canting his head to the side, Christian thinks before he answers. "Misha was one of the paramedics dispatched to the scene when I called for an ambulance. He's been here at the hospital with Jensen almost as much as I have. We try to take shifts so he isn't left alone." His voice lowers into a deeper register, a dangerous, rumbling growl. "I think seeing the kid in such bad shape and almost losing him in the ambulance really shook Misha up. He tries hard and he's pretty good with him."

"You're pretty good with him too; he's asleep." Jared juts his chin at Jensen and Chris looks down at the head resting on his abdomen.

Lax features and the soft fall of long eyelashes against his cheek make Jensen look even younger than his eighteen years.

Christian's smile transforms his entire face, from brooding to fond in an instant. Gently, he pulls Jensen's thumb from his mouth. The slide of thumb across lips causes the lower one to poke out in a cute little pout and Jensen snuffles in his sleep.

It shouldn't be charming, but it really, really is. They're adorable together even though Jared kind of wishes he didn't feel like he was on the outside looking in.

He grins just in time for Chris to look up and catch him.

The cop schools his face into a slightly less sappy expression.

"Shut up." The warning in Christian's tone is tempered, modulated, in deference to the young man sleeping on him.

"I didn't say anything." Jared defends himself, hands held up innocently at his sides, still grinning.

"Yeah, well I know what you're thinking and you can just stop it right now."

"What? I'm not thinking anything. I'm certainly not thinking about how sweet you look because that would just be wrong on so many different levels." Jared tries for serious and can't pull it off, his mouth refuses to quit smiling and it's making his cheeks hurt.

"You know I _can_ get up, and when I do you're gonna get it, Padalecki." Christian starts to scoot out from underneath Jensen, but the boy whimpers and clutches at his jeans-clad leg which is enough to have Chris sink back onto the bed with a wry smile of his own.

"Guess you're stuck." As Jared says the words he knows they have more than one meaning. And Christian isn't the only one who's been snared.

"Yeah," his friend nods, eyes bright, "I guess I am."

Neither of them speak for a while, lost in their own thoughts.

"This is a good thing." Chris says into the companionable silence of the plain hospital room. "He doesn't sleep much even though the pain meds make him groggy. He fights sleep like he's afraid of waking up and finding himself back in that house with his abusive parents." A disgusted look settles over his friend's face, eyes going storm-cloud dark and mouth forming a scowl.

Christian can be damn scary when he gets mad. Luckily, he doesn't get mad all that often.

"Plus, he hardly ever sleeps when anyone besides me or Misha are in the room with him. He must like you."

It pleases Jared to think Jensen might like him, although he's not sure he deserves the boy's friendship yet. "How can he like me already? All I did was say 'hi' to him."

"You'd be surprised by how many people don't even do that. They think just because he doesn't speak he can't hear them or they think he's mentally disabled and they ignore him. He's messed up – yeah, who wouldn't be – but he's smart." Christian's hand lies protectively at the top of Jensen's spine where the hospital gown has fallen from the sleeping boy's shoulders. His fingers splay over the freckled skin, running lightly back and forth, soothing. "Lots of people loom over him too, even though it's easy to see he's frightened. You did good, Jay. It's a good start."

A good start, maybe, but Jared knows it's going to take time. Earning Jensen's trust won't just happen overnight, if it happens at all. Look at how long Christian and Misha have been at it and, if what Chris said is true, Misha still doesn't have Jensen's full confidence.

Jared has a lot more to learn about this situation. There are no easy answers; that's for certain, and although he has some thinking to do, one thing requires no thought. "I need to know more about him. What more can you tell me?"


	2. Chapter 2

[](http://disneymagics.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/393/7470)

Hope of Innocents

_Chapter 2_

Christian agrees to come to his apartment later that night, after Misha has returned to relieve him from his post at Jensen's side. His friend's dedication is something that Jared has always admired about Christian. It's one of the things that makes him such a good cop not to mention such a terrific friend.

Jared's three bedroom ranch-style house is a mess, magazines and books litter every available surface. Since he's about to have company Jared spends some time picking up after himself, replacing the books on shelves and stacking the magazines into a pile on the coffee table.

It's a bigger house than he needs, but Jared has always known he'd find someone to share it with eventually. And the location is perfect - sitting on a large lot on the edge of town, close enough to be within easy driving distance of anything he might need and isolated enough to let him indulge in his love of nature and the peace he can only achieve when there are no sounds to be heard other than the humming of insects and the rustling of leaves.

The smallest of the three bedrooms has been turned into a home office, complete with desk, filing cabinets and computer. The other two bedrooms, the one he sleeps in and the guest bedroom, are separated by a bathroom.

One of the articles he's been editing is open on his computer - a story about homeless teenagers, ironically. Written by a reporter out of the Houston branch office, the article follows one particular boy as he tries to remain in high school while relying on the generosity of his friends' families to give him a place to crash at night. Somehow the story feels more real now, it hits closer to home, and Jared reads the draft again as he waits for Christian to show up.

The doorbell startles him from thoughts of what it must be like to be a homeless teenager, to never have a sense of belonging, to scrape and scrounge just to survive.

Jensen isn't in a position where he's going to be thrown out on the streets, but there are certainly similarities.

Jared lets his friend in after shutting down his PC.

"You want a beer or something stronger?" He asks as soon as Christian steps inside. By the look Christian gives him, he knows he's not fooling his friend with his attempt at light-heartedness. That's not really anything new though. Jared has always been an open book to his friends, never one to hide how he's feeling, and right now he feels like there's a current of electricity sizzling just under his skin.

"Naw, beer's good, son." Christian's voice is deep and slow, like sun-warmed honey. It's the voice he uses when he sings a sad, country ballad or when he's just downright exhausted. "If I have anything stronger than beer I'm gonna fall asleep before we even get started on this conversation."

"Yeah, you better sit down. You look like you're about to fall asleep standing up." And in truth, his friend looks more tired than Jared's ever seen him, and Jared's seen him after pulling all nighters for several days straight while working a tough case. "You all right?"

"I'm good, just...Jensen's having a tough time. After you left..." Christian sighs as he accepts the beer Jared hands him and sinks into one of the recliners. "He has these panic attacks and sometimes it's hard to get him to calm down."

Leaning back in the matching recliner, Jared stretches his legs out in front of himself and crosses his arms over his chest. "You've been there with him a lot. What about work?"

"I'm using vacation time. I've got a bunch of it saved up. The Chief isn't real happy about the extended leave of absence, but so far he's playing along. Misha's doing the same thing only his boss is taking it out of his paycheck." Christian rubs his eyes, takes a deep pull off his longneck. "So, what do you want to know about Jensen?"

"As much as you can tell me. What about these panic attacks? What causes them?"

"Anything can trigger them - a loud noise, someone he doesn't know getting too close, anything unexpected really. It's almost like an extreme case of PTSD, like he's constantly expecting to be beaten or attacked. Sometimes he acts like he's reliving the abuse over and over again. Like he's stuck in this repetitive loop. Like he can't get away from it. And he can have one of two different reactions to the panic - either he completely shuts down, becomes catatonic, or he tries to get away, to hide, at the exclusion of everything else." Christian yawns and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. "He never strikes out. He's much more a danger to himself than to anyone else."

Extreme PTSD is a logical outcome for someone who has experienced a lifetime of abuse, even Jared knows that. But it doesn't explain everything. There's got to be more to it.

"He seems so...ingenuous, you know, like a child. Why does he suck his thumb?" Jared asks.

"I talked to his psychiatrist about that. Dr. Beaver, he's a little out there, unconventional. But he seems to know what he's talking about." Slouching further into the recliner, Christian continues around another yawn. "Anyway, he says it's a rare form of regression. He thinks Jensen has regressed to a point in his life when he felt safe. There aren't many recorded cases like it but, according to the doc, he'll only come out of it when he's good and ready. It's got to be on his time schedule, no one else's. It could take years if it even happens at all. It depends on Jensen."

Confused, Jared wonders, "So, what? One day he just snaps out of it?"

"Nuh-uh, this isn't some Lifetime special feature, man. Doc says it'll be gradual. Given the right environment, he'll make progress. Little improvements over time. As long as he feels safe."

The now empty beer bottle dangles from its neck at the tips of Christian's fingers where his arm hangs over the side of the recliner. Its bottom brushes the floor and he lets it come to a full rest, laying his hand flat on his stomach once it's free.

His friend looks beat, beyond tired, as though he's been fighting an endless battle. Any further discussion will have to wait.

"Do you have to go back to the hospital tonight?" Jared asks.

Christian shakes his head. "Misha's got him tonight. I'm going back in the morning. You mind if I stay here 'til then? Don't think I should drive right now."

"Yeah, you should sleep. Why don't you head back to the spare room; bed's all made up and ready."

"I'm so tired I could sleep in the bathtub if I had to." Scrubbing a hand over his face, his friend groans softly as he shuffles down the hallway, calling over his shoulder, "Can you wake me up when you get up? I don't want Misha to have to wait too long for me to get there. He said something about having errands to run and he's gonna hafta sleep sometime too."

"Yeah, no problem. I'll get you up in time for coffee and then we can go back to the hospital together."

"Sounds good."

On his way to his bedroom, Jared turns off all the lights and chuckles at the loud snores coming from the guest room.

~~*~~*~*~~*~~

Misha is standing in the hallway just outside Jensen's room when they get there the next morning. His hair is sticking up in scruffy tufts that make him look like a marmoset having a bad hair day and it's clear from the stubble on his chin that he hasn't gotten around to shaving yet.

"Hey, I'm glad you're here," he says, walking forward to meet them.

Christian goes on high alert instantly. "What's up? Is Jensen okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, he's fine. He had a good night. I think he's starting to feel better actually." There's a hesitancy in the cadence of Misha's voice, an uncertain lilt. The effect is only amplified as he runs a hand over the wrinkles in his long-sleeve tee as though the motion will magically iron them out.

"But..." Christian prompts.

"But," Misha starts and then looks behind him towards the nurses' station. "Doctor Fuller has already been by this morning. I think he wanted to catch Jensen without you there."

A frown tugs at Christian's lips and he curses through a clenched jaw.

Looking back and forth swiftly between the two other men and trying to figure out what he's just missed, Jared asks, "Wait a minute. What's wrong with Dr. Fuller coming to see Jensen?"

Misha tilts his head, considering Jared for a moment before he answers the question. "Dr. Fuller wants Jensen released to Oak Grove. He's been talking to social services about it for the last couple of days."

The sensation of being out of synch, just a beat too slow, grows inside him. None of this makes a whole lot of sense. He's missing something.

With a dramatic flourish, Misha turns back to Christian. "And then, first thing this morning, he comes into the room with a bunch of pamphlets, shoves them in Jensen's face, wants him to see pictures of the grounds. Like the flower garden is some huge selling point." The righteous indignation fades as suddenly as it had appeared and Misha seems to shrink a little, shoulders hunching as he shares a significant look with the cop. "Jensen held it together really well, but he's been watching for you ever since Fuller left."

Eyes moist, Christian nods, sidestepping Misha to shoulder open the door to Jensen's room, and all Jared can do is to follow along in his wake.

Over Christian's shoulder, he can see Jensen sitting up in the bed, bottom lip held firmly between his teeth, chin wobbling.

As soon as he hears the soft swish of the door opening, the boy's head jerks up and his eyes widen.

"Hey kiddo, it's just me and Jared." Voice little more than a whisper, Christian puts a hand on Jared's shoulder. "You remember this guy, don't you?"

Jensen only has eyes for Christian as the first tears start to fall and he releases his lower lip only for it to begin quivering.

Jared's never seen such abject misery in all his life. An answering sorrow wells up inside him and even though he doesn't know what's causing the boy's pain, he gets this overpowering urge to do whatever needs to be done to make it stop.

Jensen holds out both hands, reaching for Christian urgently, like he's standing on the edge of a cliff and Christian is the only one who can keep him from falling. His hands are shaking.

The cop is next to the bed in an instant and he lets the boy plaster himself against his chest, IV tube and monitoring wires swinging precariously with his jerky movements. "Hey, hey, none of that." Christian murmurs. "You don't have to go to Oak Grove if you don't want to. And even if you do decide to go there, I'll still come visit you. You won't be all alone."

The way the teenager looks up at his friend then, guileless and trusting, makes something inside Jared twist painfully as if a corkscrew has been embedded in his ribcage.

He has more questions now than before and since Christian has the situation with Jensen well under control, Jared decides to go looking for some answers. He ducks out of the room quietly and goes in search of Misha, finding him not too far away in a small waiting room off the main corridor. The paramedic is sitting hunched over in a chair, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, fingers tangled in unruly tufts of hair.

"I don't get it," Jared says as he sits next to the paramedic.

Lowering his hands, Misha turns to look at him, stare at him really, blue eyes boring into him. For the second time since meeting the man, Jared feels as though he's being measured. It feels like Misha can see right through him, into the heart of who he is, into his soul.

After long enough that he begins to think maybe the other man didn't hear him, Misha says, "Me either."

And that's no help at all so he tries again. "What's the deal with this Dr. Fuller? Who is he and what does he want? What's Oak Grove?"

"Dr. Kurt Fuller." Misha makes a face that looks like he's constipated, puffing his cheeks out, squinting his eyes and furrowing his brow. "Fuller is the doctor who operated on Jensen when I brought him into the ER. Christian told you I was the one who brought him in, yeah?" He cocks his head.

"Yeah, ah yes." Jared nods.

"Well, by the time I got him here, he'd lost a lot of blood, he was in bad shape. I had to resuscitate him in the ambulance on the ride over. Almost lost him." The paramedic stares at a section of wall over Jared's shoulder, clearly lost in his memories. Then he shakes his head. "There was a lot of damage, Fuller repaired a perforation in his intestines, sewed him back together, but...then they couldn't wake him up. He was so malnourished, there was nothing to him, still isn't, and the anesthesiologist had a hell of a time getting him back."

"Jesus." Jared huffs, crossing his arms against a sudden chill.

A nurse walks by, pushing a cart loaded with linens. The distraction is welcome and both men stop to watch her pass. In the silence that settles over them a bell is audible, ringing over at the nurses' station. Jared wonders briefly what the bell means, if one of the patients is using their call button or if there's trouble of some kind in one of the rooms.

Taking a deep breath, he asks, "But Jensen's alright now?"

"He's better. A lot better. There's still the vitamin deficiencies to work out, he's still pretty vulnerable to certain complications, infections." The paramedic purses his lips. "And then there's, you know, the psychological issues. Fuller wants Jensen admitted to Oak Grove. It's a State-run institutional home for the indigent, which Jensen technically is now."

"You don't think he's right." Jared guesses.

"No," Misha shakes his head. "In order to get better Jensen needs to live somewhere he feels completely secure and cared for. Now, think about what it might be like to live in a group home run by the State and then think about Jensen. Do you honestly believe he could get better in a place like that? I think it's much more likely that they'd dose him up with a cocktail of drugs to make him compliant and easy to deal with." Misha flexes his hands on his knees and sighs. "Look, I gotta go. If you want to know more, you'll need to talk to Christian." With that, he stands and trudges heavily away, trailing one hand along the wall.

Feet dragging and shoulders hitched up around his ears, Jared makes his way back to Jensen's room. He knocks and waits until he hears Christian's voice say it's okay to go in.

His friend is sitting next to Jensen in the bed, positions nearly identical to yesterday when he'd first seen the sick young man. It seems as though it's been a lot longer than just one day.

Taking his same seat across the room, Jared plasters a smile on his face and shrugs at the question in Christian's eyes. He's not sure of exactly what's going on, but he wants to help. He can't walk away from his friend and, now that he's starting to learn about him, he can't abandon this boy.

"I was just getting ready to tell Jensen about that white water rafting trip we went on last year." Christian says. "You're better at telling stories though. You wanna tell him?"

If there's one thing Jared can do, it's talk. It doesn't take much to get him going. Ask him about his shirt and he can go on for fifteen minutes about where he bought it and where he likes to wear it. He can talk about anything, as long as there's someone willing to listen.

Jensen is willing. In fact, as soon as Jared starts talking, the boy's eyes lock on his face. He seems to be eating it up, intent on every word with a laser-sharp focus.

After he tells Jensen about the vacation he and Christian had taken to West Virginia to go rafting, the cop grinning and jumping in whenever he feels like he has something to add, the conversation wanders to the wildlife they'd seen on that trip. From there Jared tells them about his cousin's farm and then about how he's always wanted to rescue a couple of dog's from the pound someday.

The small noises Jensen makes, the way he never stops looking at Jared, show how much he's enjoying the conversation, although he never laughs or even smiles. Having someone talk to him and not at him is probably not something that happens all that often, Jared thinks.

The peaceful mood is disturbed by the door swinging open as an orderly barges over to Jensen's bed to drop a tray of food on the rolling side table.

"Here's your lunch," he says as the plastic tray thunks onto the table.

That's when all hell breaks loose and Jared finds out firsthand how Jensen reacts to having his space invaded unexpectedly.

The boy cries out, jerks upright and scrabbles wildly for the edge of the bed. Dazed and mindless with fear, he doesn't seem to care about anything except getting away as quickly as possible. The fastest route _away_ is over Christian so that's where Jensen goes, plunging headlong onto the floor despite the cop's attempts to stop him.

The IV stand topples over with an almighty crash which only causes Jensen's panic to escalate. Blood drips down his arm from where the IV needle and tape have been ripped from his skin. It spatters the wall as he collides into a cabinet and crumples to the ground, nearly fetal.

Flimsy hospital gown rucked up under his armpits, exposing his lanky legs and his bony hips, Jensen screws his eyes closed while he moans, both arms wrapped around his stomach.

Instead of underwear, he's wearing a diaper.

In nearly perfect counter-point to his keening, one of the many machines in the room begins to wail an alarm at being disconnected, a shrill sound that makes Jared's teeth ache.

Christian leaps to his feet, his face a vibrant shade of magenta as his head swivels from Jensen to the orderly. It's clear he's torn between taking the orderly out to the hallway to beat him black and blue and going to take care of Jensen.

Jared makes the decision for him. Striding rapidly across the room, he gives Chris an emphatic shove towards Jensen then he grabs the stunned orderly by the elbow, escorting him out the door.

As soon as they make it past the threshold, Jared wheels around to confront the man. "You're not to come back to this room. Do you understand? Not ever! Someone else delivers his meals from now on, preferably someone who can read." Glaring, he points to the sign on the door, the sign he'd thought excessive when he'd first seen it and now knows to be a necessary precaution, the one requesting all visitors to wait for permission before they enter the skittish young man's room.

Still wearing a startled expression, the orderly nods and leaves.

Jared is so furious he's having a hard time catching his breath.

It doesn't matter that the orderly was only doing his job or that he didn't know any better.

The urge the protect Jensen is sudden and all-consuming

Putting his hands on his knees, he lowers his head and takes a moment to regulate the intake of air into his lungs. Having met the boy only yesterday, Jared can already feel a tug on his heart like a string has been tied around it and the other end is held tightly by the terrified boy on the other side of the hospital room door.

A harried looking nurse gives him an appraising glance as she bustles up to Jensen's door and raps lightly a couple times. "Everything okay in there?" she calls.

There's a pause before Christian answers, "I think he's going to be alright, but can you come back in a few minutes?"

"Yes, I've just got to…" She waves at another door down the hallway with the vial she's holding even though Chris can't see her through the closed door. "I'll be right back." A quick nod at Jared and the nurse is gone, flat white shoes squeaking on the linoleum.


	3. Chapter 3

[](http://disneymagics.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/393/7470)

Hope of Innocents

_Chapter 3_

When Jared re-enters the room moments later, Christian has coaxed Jensen onto the bed and is wiping his bloody arm with a tissue, the puncture from the IV needle only bleeding sluggishly at this point.

Jensen is motionless and silent – his eyes open but vacant – seemingly oblivious to his surroundings, monitor alarm included.

Chris sits on the bed and pulls the unresponsive boy up against his side, careful to avoid the thick bandage around his middle. "It's okay, kiddo. You're safe. It's okay."

Jensen blinks and awareness begins to filter back into his green eyes. He glances fearfully around the room and his gaze lands on Jared. When he doesn't startle or cower away, Jared tries for a reassuring smile, just the smallest curve of lips, mouth closed.

"Hey Jensen, look at me. Did you hurt your stomach? Do I need to get a doctor in here to take a look?" Christian asks.

The tip of Jensen's tongue swipes across his bottom lip and, without taking his eyes from Jared, he shakes his head.

"That's not very convincing." Cupping the young man's face in one hand to gain his full attention, Christian tries again. "Look at me, kiddo. That's right. Now, are you telling me the truth or is this just wishful thinking. I need you to be honest. Don't just tell me what you think I want to hear."

The boy shakes his head a second time, pauses, then nods uncertainly. There's a film of sweat on his face, beads of it across his upper lip and at his hair line. A single tear rolls slowly down his cheek and Jared's heart is torn into itty-bitty pieces. Jensen looks so lost, like he can't figure out how he came to be in this place, like he's certain he doesn't belong here but has nowhere else to go.

Jared has never been able to watch someone else suffering and not take action. It just about kills him to stand still and do nothing even though he knows that's all Jensen is ready for him to do.

Moving his hand to the back of the boy's head, Chris tugs him into a loose embrace. "I know. That was scary. No one's supposed to come in here unless we're ready for them. Everyone who works this floor knows the rule. Apparently, that orderly was new and didn't get the memo."

The words are for Jared, an explanation of sorts.

The tone of voice, low and soothing, is all for Jensen. He responds to the comfort by humming under his breath.

"We're gonna have more company soon. Your nurse will be back any minute to reattach all your wires and-."

Before Christian can continue, Jensen yanks out of his hold and begins to shake his head so hard the metal bed frame rattles. It's a wonder he doesn't make himself dizzy.

He doesn't stop until Christian says, in a quiet but firm voice, "Jensen, you know the drill. It's not like this is the first time and besides it's Kim on shift, you like Kim."

Again there's a knock at the door, only this time whoever is on the other side waits while Christian puts a steadying hand on Jensen's chest, looks him in the eye to make sure he's ready, and calls out, "Come on in."

The nurse who walks through the door is dressed in orange scrubs with a bicycle print. A hospital ID tag displays her name, Kim, and her profession, R.N. Her shoulder-length, brunette hair swings with each step she takes, emphasizing the cheerful expression on her face. One dainty eyebrow arches as she takes in the utter chaos of Jensen's room.

"Just what have you boys been up to?" she asks, a teasing glint in her eyes. "No, never mind, don't tell me. I don't want to know. So, how's my favorite patient doing?"

She gives Jensen plenty of space, standing several feet away from the bed, and she has one of those open, genuine smiles that instantly puts everyone around her at ease.

Jensen turns his face away, but not before Jared sees the upward twitch of his lips and the flush on his cheeks.

"Ah, always so shy." Kim tuts playfully. "One of these days I'm going to get a smile out of you."

When she approaches the bed, she does so at a measured pace that she manages to make look perfectly natural, not at all stilted or hesitant. She smoothly sets the IV stand upright, turns off the beeping monitor, and wets a cloth at the sink to wipe down the wall. Each of these tasks is completed efficiently, without any fuss.

The difference between Jensen's reaction to Kim's calming presence and the orderly's jarring entrance is like the difference between classical music and the screaming lyrics of deathcore. Although Jensen keeps his head down and his body stiff as she moves around the room, he doesn't try to get away from her when she gives his leg a friendly pat in passing. It's a small gesture and done with such ease, such nonchalance, that Jensen doesn't seem to notice it until she's already moved on. Then his gaze flicks from her to Christian as though trying to figure out how he should react to the touch by using his protector's response as a gauge.

Christian just chuckles, amused by the exchange, and Jensen's body posture visibly relaxes, the tension in his shoulders loosening and fists unclenching.

The longer Jared watches the nurse with Jensen the more he likes her.

Only once she's done putting the room to rights does she turn her full attention back to the three men. "Well, do I get an introduction to your new visitor or not?"

The sideways look she gives Jared is full of mischief.

He grins and says, "Hey, I'm Jared. I'm a friend of Christian's, here to meet Jensen."

"Oh my, look at those dimples, would ya?" She winks at Jensen before introducing herself. "I'm one of Jensen's nurses, Kim. It's good to see him get a new visitor. I mean, Christian and Misha are okay, I guess, but I get tired of seeing the same old faces, don't you agree Jensen?"

The corners of Jensen's eyes crinkle and he gives a tiny, bashful nod.

"Hey! Traitor!" Chris says with a wide smile of his own.

Jared really, really likes Kim. She's awesome.

"Okay honey, this part sucks, but we have to get you hooked back up. Do I need to be worried about your incision?" the nurse asks.

It's not a surprise to anyone in the room when Christian answered the question as though it had been addressed directly to him. "He says he doesn't need a doctor to look at it, so it's probably alright, although maybe…just to be on the safe side."

"Okay, just let me fix the IV and then I'll see if any damage has been done. I'm not too worried about the stitches at this point, but there's a chance the drain has been pulled lose."

The nurse removes a fresh needle from its packaging and attaches it to the IV tube.

Jensen makes a distressed mewling sound and Christian takes up his post next to the young man on the bed, one arm looped around his upper body. "Don't look, kiddo. It's better if you don't watch this part."

Armed with a moist cotton ball, Kim reaches for Jensen's arm and his head whips up so fast he almost butts Christian in the face as he strives to scramble backwards against the metal railing of the bed. If the cop's reflexes hadn't been as sharp as a finely honed knife, he would have been on the receiving end of one hell of a bloody nose.

As he holds a weakly struggling Jensen, Christian looks at Jared, eyes pleading for some kind of help. Jared looks back, wishing he could think of something to do and feeling utterly incompetent, as inadequate as a penny when the candy bar costs a dollar.

Until...

"Um Kim, do you mind if I try something?" he asks, giving the nurse an apologetic smile before scrolling through his cell phone until he finds his folder of pictures.

"Yeah, good. If you could just...that's great." She steps back just far enough to let Jared move closer and Jensen stops struggling, although he continues to watch her warily, not willing to let her sneak back up on him.

There are several pictures on his phone of Chris playing his guitar at a party they were both at a couple months ago and a bunch from his cousin's farm that he figures might capture Jensen's attention because...yeah, baby goats are cute no matter who you are.

Jared holds the phone out to the young man, saying, "Did Christian tell you he plays the guitar? He's pretty good at it too. See, here's a picture of him playing for some friends."

It takes Jensen a moment to make up his mind, but then he takes the phone and stares at the picture intently. Jared shows him which buttons to push to flip through all the pictures – the goats are a big hit – and once they're done, the boy seems much calmer.

Jared takes his phone back and bends down to catch the young man's gaze, holding it steadily. "I'm going to be honest with you, okay? The needle is going to pinch but Kim is going to be as careful as she can and Christian is here with you so you don't have to be scared." Jared takes a deep breath. "Do you want to hold my hand, Jensen? That way you can squeeze it as hard as you like if that makes you feel better."

He holds out his hand in the same way he'd held out his phone, leaving the decision of whether to accept the offer completely up to Jensen. Rejection is a very real possibility here Jared knows. Jensen still doesn't trust him, hasn't accepted him into his small, private world, so he steels himself and waits.

Jensen bites his lip and slowly extends his hand, fingers trembling. Halfway there, he stops. Jared's pretty sure he's going to snatch his hand back, but instead it shoots forward the rest of the way and grabs Jared's in a desperate grip. On the inside, Jared rejoices. It's a huge step and it feels like he's won a victory. On the outside, he tilts his head toward Kim to let her know they're ready and gives Jensen's hand a gentle squeeze.

The boy's hand is cold, his fingers long and thin. The index finger is somewhat crooked, obviously broken and left untreated, any potential for elegance striped away by a cruel act and negligence.

With Jensen leaning against Christian and clasping Jared's hand, Kim is able to swab the translucent skin at the crook of his other elbow. Running a gloved fingertip over the area she's just cleaned, she clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth and says, "There aren't any good veins here. That happens sometimes in cases like this. Let's try your wrist."

She must find what she's looking for because she swabs a section of skin on the side of his wrist near the knob of bone and deftly inserts the needle. At the prick, Jensen's breath hitches and his fingers clamp down on Jared's hand. The skin looks tender and the needle obscenely large where it sticks out of his narrow wrist.

Once she's satisfied that the line is open and flowing, Kim places several pieces of tape over the needle to hold it in place. "There, now that's done let's check your belly."

Thinking that Jensen may want some privacy while the nurse peels off the bandages to look at his stomach wound, Jared starts to untangle his hand so he can step away. He sure as hell wouldn't want some stranger standing over him and gawking when he was exposed and on display.

Jensen seems to feel differently though because he doesn't let go of Jared's hand. In fact, his grip becomes as tight as a tourniquet and he pulls Jared closer.

It's a testament to the nurse's professionalism – and probably to her high degree of compassion as well – that she says nothing about the arrangement, simply working around both men as necessary to get at her patient.

Jensen's hair falls into his face as he chokes on a moan and buries his head in the crook of Christian's neck.

"This'll only take a couple minutes, honey." Kim says, voice full of apology.

A blanket is placed over the boy's legs and hips before Kim folds his hospital gown up on his chest and removes the bulky bandages to reveal a healing gash on his concave stomach. The six inch long knife wound begins just under his ribcage on his right side and slashes diagonally to end below his navel. The puckered, pink edges of the rough incision, held together with neat stitches and surgical tape, are inflamed and puffy.

His mother had not only stabbed him, she'd sliced him open as though she'd been gutting a fish.

A plastic tube sticks out of the gash from between a set of stitches. On the other end on the tube is a bulb half full of a viscous liquid which Jared is positive he wants to know nothing about.

Although he'd known what to expect, he's still appalled at the sight. He feels his throat close up, making it difficult to swallow and when he looks at Christian, his friend's jaw is clenched so tight there's the distinct possibility he's going to chip a tooth.

Apparently, seeing the physical damage done by the boy's parents doesn't get any easier with time because Christian had been there when the wound was fresh, spilling blood and gore all over the kitchen tiles. That's something that Jared can't think about right now.

The wound looks grisly to Jared, but Kim doesn't seem fazed by it. "The drain is still in place," she points at the plastic tube and bulb, "and the swelling is beginning to go down. Everything looks normal for this stage in your recovery." With that, she replaces the bandages and unrolls the boy's hospital gown to cover his abdomen and thighs, tucking it in under the blanket.

Unmistakable relief shows in the slump of Jensen's posture when Kim says, "It's time for your next round of pain meds and then I'll check your vitals and get out of your hair."

She fills a syringe from a small, glass vial and injects it into the IV port, takes his temperature, his blood pressure, his pulse, and makes some notes on his chart. "You're still running a slight fever and your blood pressure is on the low side, but that's to be expected. The IV antibiotics you've been getting should knock out the rest of that infection within the next couple of days."

Crossing the floor, she turns when she gets to the door. "You should be feeling the effects of the pain medication right about now, but you need to eat everything on your lunch tray before you fall asleep and I'll bring your vitamin supplements in a little while, okay? Can't have you losing any more weight, honey."

Her pointed glance at Christian evokes a serious nod from the cop and he says, "I'll see to it he eats."

Jared notices that Jensen's eyes have gone a little glassy and he's staring at the nurse's orange scrubs with a bemused look on his face.

Kim tracks his line of vision and laughs. "I know, they're hideous, right? My husband bought them as a joke. I got the last laugh though; for his birthday I bought him some striped pajamas that make him look like the Joker from the first Batman movie. Remember the one with Jack Nicholson? Yeah, he looks totally ridiculous when he wears them."

Pressing a finger to her lips to signify the need to keep a secret, Kim pulls the door closed on her way out of the room.

"You heard her, kiddo; you need to eat." Christian stretches an arm over the bed to grab the rolling side table and pull it closer so the covered tray is within easy reach. "Let's see what's for lunch."

Even though the bed is already in an upright position and the tray is right in front of him, Jensen makes no move to take the cover off and begin eating. It's not that he looks like he doesn't want to eat. Quite the opposite, he's eyeing the tray with what can only be anticipation, but his hands stay motionless at his sides as though he's waiting for something.

Christian removes the lid and Jensen sits up a little straighter, moistens his lips with his tongue. On the tray is a bowl of soup, chunks of vegetables and beef floating around in it, a glass of juice, some applesauce and, for dessert, red Jell-O.

Then his friend does something Jared never would have expected, even after having seen the way he acts with Jensen, how he protects the boy, comforts him, cares for him. Chris I-have-a-gun-and-I-will-use-it-if-I-have-to Kane picks up the spoon, dips it into the soup, and brings the food to Jensen's mouth.

This is a sight Jared would have gladly paid money to see.

Like a baby bird, Jensen opens up wide and takes the bite, chewing and swallowing. A pleased, thrumming sound comes from the boy and Jared realizes that's how he expresses his happiness.

Quirking an eyebrow at Christian, Jared waits silently for an explanation.

"It's the only way he'll eat," Christian says without ever looking up from his task, completely wasting the effect of Jared's raised eyebrow.

When Misha comes in a little later, no explanation for where he's been, they've finished the soup and applesauce and are quickly demolishing the wiggly dessert.

The paramedic moves to stand behind Chris where he begins making goofy faces at Jensen, crossing his eyes, sticking out his tongue and giving the cop bunny ears with two fingers. A hint of a smile plays around the young man's lips at Misha's antics which only seems to inspire the paramedic to attempt even sillier faces.

The last bite of Jell-O disappears and Jensen sags back into the bedding, eyes falling closed in apparent contentment.

Misha watches the boy with a fond look on his face. "He's taken to you really quickly. He's not usually so relaxed around new people."

Jared can't quite interpret Misha's tone of voice and he might think that the other man is upset or sad except that he glances over at Jared and smiles. It's not a sad smile. It's a smile of renewed hope and optimism.

"We had a bit of a scare earlier. I'll tell you about it later." Christian says to Misha as he gingerly gets off the bed.

Misha nods. "I'll stay with him now if you need to go. Looks like he might fall asleep pretty soon."

All in all, Jared and Christian have been at the hospital for three hours, about two hours longer than Jared had originally planned.

On the way out to their cars, Jared says, "He's in good hands here."

His remark gets a grimace out of Christian. "Yeah, but what happens when I have to go back to work? When Misha has to? What happens when he's ready to be discharged? His doctor is pushing for him to be admitted to a long-term care facility even though his psychologist doesn't think that's in his best interests. Social services will be getting involved soon and it's going to be a fucking mess."

"Yeah, Misha said something about that."

"About Oak Grove?" Christian asks.

"Yeah, and he had a few choice words to say about Dr. Fuller too."

"I'll bet." There's amusement in Christian's voice.

Jared stands by his car and thinks about what his next step should be. It's not a difficult decision. "I want to come by to see him again tomorrow."

Christian smirks, as though he's masterminded some ingenious plan and is gratified to see it all coming together. "It's kind of hard to stay away once you've met him, huh?"

"Yeah, more like impossible, asshole. What have you gotten me into?"

The friendly punch in the arm is the only response Jared gets.

~~*~~*~*~~*~~

That night, as he lies in bed, Jared can't get thoughts of Jensen out of his head. The relationship that Christian has with the boy is exactly what he's been searching for. He wants to feel needed like that. He wants someone to take care of, someone to dote on and, most importantly, someone to protect.

A second chance.

After having watched Christian with Jensen, he realizes age isn't important. It makes no difference whether that someone is eight or eighteen.

Megan would have turned eighteen last month if…

On the date she'd gone missing five years ago, he goes to sit at her gravesite every year even though there's no body buried there. Somehow it feels as though he's closer to her there than anywhere else.

Fate seems like such an arbitrary and ridiculous explanation, but a part of him wonders about the chain of events that have led him to this place in his life at just the right time to meet Jensen. Maybe there's a reason he's never been able to adopt a child. Maybe he's always been meant to be there when one particular damaged young man needed him the most.

Into the dark of his bedroom, Jared whispers, "I want to help you. Will you let me?" One day he hopes he gets to say those words to Jensen's face.


	4. Chapter 4

[](http://disneymagics.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/393/7470)

Hope of Innocents

Chapter 4 

Jared wakes up the next morning with a sense of purpose that's been missing from his life for a while now. There are several magazine articles on his PC for him to edit for work and he needs to go buy another bookshelf for his home office, but those chores have nothing to do with the way he bounces out of bed as soon as the first rays of sunlight come through his bedroom window.

Jensen needs balloons.

He thinks about what Jensen's face might look like, lit up in amazement as Jared walks through the door to his hospital room holding the strings of a dozen helium-filled balloons. Bringing that kind of joy into the life of someone who has been taught never to expect anything good is its own form of magic and Jared is almost giddy at the thought that he has the power to give that to someone, that he can make a difference with something as simple as balloons.

At least he hopes it can be that simple. Deep in his heart he knows it can't. That knowledge only adds to his nervous energy.

The party store opens at nine o'clock and Jared is ill-prepared to wait. Patience is not one of his strong suits so he putters around his house, glancing at his watch every few minutes and groaning when he sees how little time has passed. He feels like he did as a child, waiting to fall asleep on Christmas Eve, every minute an hour.

At eight thirty, Jared jogs out to his car.

The string of bells on the front door of the party story give off a merry jingling sound as he pushes it open and steps inside. His eyes are immediately drawn to the display of silver Mylar balloons with slogans ranging from _Happy Birthday_ to _It's a Girl_. There are SpongeBobs and Supermen and martini glasses and giant lips.

"Can I help you?" asks the salesgirl behind the balloon counter.

"I need a dozen helium balloons, all different colors," he says. "The brighter the better."

She nods and begins pulling rubber balloons from a bin, inflating them from the canister of helium, tying them off and attaching strings. "Any preferences?" she asks when she's about halfway done.

Jared eyes the collection of bright blue, green, purple, yellow, and red balloons bobbing on the ends of their strings before answering, "Nope, you're doing great!"

Purchase made and balloon strings in hand, Jared crosses the parking lot to his car. It's a struggle to fit all twelve into his backseat and by the time he's muscled them all in, Jared is beginning to have second thoughts. This might not be the best idea he's ever had after all.

What if Jensen doesn't like them? Or worse, what if he's afraid of them?

A batch of butterflies takes up residence in his stomach and Jared comes really close to pulling the balloons out of his car and letting them float up into the crisp autumn sky. But then he thinks about Megan's last birthday party, the way her eyes had lit up at the sight of all the balloons he'd decorated their parent's house with. The memory brings a smile to his face and banishes the butterflies along with all the self-doubt that always seems to plague him.

Getting balloons might turn things around for Jensen, or it might not. He'll never know if he doesn't try. He has to at least try to do something special for the young man. And if Jensen doesn't like them, they can always give them to the kids in the pediatric wing. Surely someone will get a kick out of his gift.

That settled, Jared drives to the hospital, all the while hoping that nothing important is happening behind his car since he can't see a thing through his rear view mirror except brightly-colored blobs.

As he walks down the hospital corridors, he gets plenty of stares, hospital staff, patients and visitors alike craning their necks to watch him manhandle a dozen wayward balloons through doorways and onto the elevator. He doesn't mind. It's kind of fun actually, making people smile.

Even though he hasn't cleared this visit with Christian – too excited to remember to call his friend and let him know when he was coming by – he's not worried about having to stick to a schedule. Visiting hours for Jensen have been extended to allow Christian and Misha full access at any time of the day or night because he does so much better when one of them is here. Whichever of the two men is on duty now will clear it with the nurses and let him in.

He's only just turned onto Jensen's hallway when he hears multiple people shouting and before he even knows which room the voices are coming from, Jared is running.

A shrill cry rends the air – Jensen's cry. It's the same high-pitched wail of distress Jared had heard yesterday and he feels as though his heart is being pierced with shards of ice.

His grip on the balloon strings loosens and all twelve of them float up to the ceiling behind him, completely forgotten.

Jared slides to a halt in front of Jensen's room.

The door is wide open and there are two people in scrubs, holding Jensen prone on the bed, pinning his wrists to the mattress and buckling him into padded restraining devices. A third man is busy preparing a syringe and yelling, "Careful, don't let him move around so much!" while Jensen bucks and twists with a futile desperation that's terrible to see. His eyes are wide and glazed, his mouth is open on a wail, and his legs are tangled in the white sheet.

Misha and Christian are nowhere to be seen.

Jared's not sure how long he stands there, paralyzed by shock, disbelieving. One second, maybe two. Long enough to see the third person advance on Jensen, syringe held in front of him like a fencing foil. He doesn't remember moving, doesn't know how many strides it takes to get him from the doorway to Jensen's bedside. His brain shuts down and he's on auto-pilot.

Instinct takes over and he elbows past one of the people - it's possible there's some shoving involved - and once his hands touch the restraints, he rips the straps out of the buckles, releasing first one wrist and then the other in rapid succession.

The next thing he knows, he has a petrified teenager shivering in his arms, nothing more than fragile bones stark under his hands.

"Back off," Jared snarls at the man with the syringe, voice deep and raspy. "Are you trying to scare him to death?"

Meanwhile, Jensen is trying his level best to get out of the bed and climb Jared as though he were an oak tree. Violent tremors shake his body as he clutches at handfuls of Jared's shirt, burrowing into his side. He's making a continuous, pained noise that sounds like a cross between a whimper and a moan.

Jared sits on the bed, bringing the boy with him, cuddled against his chest as much as possible. In other circumstances it might be amusing how Jensen is able to wrap his long, thin arms and legs so tightly around Jared's neck and waist.

"It's okay. Hush now, it's gonna be alright," Jared croons, holding the boy securely to make him feel safe and to generate some warmth.

Jensen's skin has that clammy feeling of being too hot and too cold at the same time. Goosebumps pebble his arms, no doubt a combination of fever chills from the low grade fever he's still running and reaction to the adrenaline in his bloodstream. His limbs don't have enough fat or muscle on them to insulate him from the effects of the frigid temperature all hospitals seem to have in common.

There's a blanket at the foot of the bed, but it's too far away for Jared to reach without letting go of the teenager who is clinging to him the way a baby koala bear clings to its mother. Instead, Jared shrugs out of his jacket and puts it over Jensen's shoulders. This seems to help because the boy stops moaning and snuggles closer. The knobby ridge of his spine is prominent even under the padded layer of the jacket and Jared can feel the frantic thudding of the young man's heart where their chests press together.

A quick look around tells Jared that at some point during the last couple minutes, two of the staff have left, leaving only the man with the syringe. He has on light blue scrubs over a button down shirt and khaki pants. Mostly bald, what little hair he has left is greying at the temples. He doesn't wear a name tag and the ID badge on a lanyard around his neck is turned the wrong way.

In a voice dripping with condescension, the man - probably a doctor - asks, "Who are you and what are you doing with my patient? By whose authority are you in here?"

Jared is livid, just barely holding it together for Jensen's sake. Rage arcs through him like a bolt of lightning until he can taste it as bitter as battery acid on his tongue and hear it crackling in his ears. It's hard to tell who's shaking harder, him or Jensen.

Only the flutter of damp eyelashes on his neck stops Jared from letting his temper loose on the pompous doctor.

That one small point of contact grounds him, diffusing his anger.

Jensen is relying on him to keep the bad things from happening. He can't do that if he's not here.

Getting himself kicked out of the hospital won't help.

He lowers his gaze to the boy who is straddling his lap and strokes his hair the same way he'd seen Christian almost pet him. The rigid muscles in Jensen's back relax as he melts into the gentle touch, going pliant and lax, his head a slack weight in the hollow of Jared's throat. His trembling eases.

Unwilling to jeopardize his welcome at the hospital, Jared curbs the rest of his anger. "I'm Jared. I'm...Jensen's friend." He takes a deep breath, lets it out through his mouth. "If I can get him to calm down for you, will you let me stay?"

He's pretty proud of the humble tone he manages to infuse within his voice. Humble is not one of the emotions he currently feels.

The doctor presses his lips into a thin line, looks at Jensen and then away at a spot on the wall as he seems to mull the matter over. Slowly, he lowers the syringe. "It is my job to treat Mr. Ackles' injuries and I will use whatever means necessary to do my job."

Fucking asshole, Jared thinks, a current of anger spiking.

"However, I do not want to restrain him any more than you want to see him restrained," the doctor continues. "You can stay, provided you keep him still so I can remove the drain from his abdomen. This will help." He holds up the syringe again, stepping forward. "Just prevent him from disconnecting his IV before I have administered this anxiolytic.

Jared's relief at being granted permission to stay is a temporary thing because Jensen can hear just fine, despite what the doctor seems to think, and he begins to panic again at the brusque man's approach, releasing his grip on Jared and trying to squirm away.

The rapport he's established with the boy is new and as delicate as the first buds of spring. He wants to nurture it and watch it grow, not stand by and watch Dr. Asshole rip it out by the roots.

To gain some time, not to mention perspective, he says, "Wait a minute, I thought you weren't giving Jensen any drugs other than painkillers."

The doctor stops, thank God, and flicks an index finger against the syringe, a smile on his fleshy face. "His pain is under control so over the last few days we have reduced his dependence on the stronger analgesics. He is more alert now and with his added cognizance has come additional anxiety. This medication will merely help manage his anxiety."

"Manage his anxiety? Or manage him?" Jared can't help but ask.

Jensen is still struggling so Jared turns away from the doctor's frown to sooth the agitated boy. "Jensen. Hey, Jensen." He calls softly, massaging the nape of Jensen's neck until the boy gives up on his attempts to escape and makes eye contact. The fear is back full force and Jared's heart sinks at the emotions he sees layered on top of it - suspicion and betrayal.

"Jensen please. I promise I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you." The words tumble out before he can think about what he's saying, before he can stop them. And now he has to make them into truth, even though he doesn't know how to or if it's even possible.

Some of the fear fades from Jensen's green eyes and he cocks his head as if signaling that he's willing to give Jared another chance. Jared takes a shaky breath and swallows reflexively, surprised at how affected he is by this boy.

"Okay, so you and I had a really good time together yesterday with Christian, right? We told lots of stories and you listened." Jared waits for the tiny nod of acknowledgment before he goes on. "I know that you don't talk, but you understand me when I talk to you."

Jensen isn't stupid. Jared has never believed that he was.

After another hesitant incline of Jensen's head, Jared gets to his point. "That means you understand me when I tell you this doctor doesn't want to hurt you, he only wants to help you get better by removing the drain."

With a fear-filled glance at the doctor, Jensen shakes his head.

"Yes." Jared says in a firm, but gentle voice, not giving the boy any choice in the matter even though he hates having to take away what little control Jensen probably feels like he has in this situation. "We'll do this together, you and me, and then the doctor won't have to give you any more medicine or use the restraints. I promise I'll be here the whole time."

As far as incentives go, he thinks his presence is a pretty lame one. To sweeten the deal, he says, "If you're good, I'll even sing you a song and then you'll have blackmail material on me for the rest of my life."

The doctor gives an impatient huff and Jensen tenses.

"Everything's fine," Jared says while he angles the young man so he's lying on the bed, propped up against Jared's chest, his belly exposed.

Jensen nestles in and, once he's settled, he lifts a hand to Jared's throat, trailing his slender fingers to Jared's mouth.

Laughing, Jared says, "You're gonna hold me to the singing thing, huh?"

He can't see the boy's face from this angle, but he feels the nod as soft, fine hair brushes along his cheekbone.

"You asked for it," he warns.

He tilts his head toward Jensen, mouth right against his ear, and begins to sing, low and quiet, as though he's singing a lullaby.

_Ooh you make me live_ _Whatever this world can give to me_ _It's you, you're all I see_ _Ooh you make me live now honey_

While Jared is crooning, the doctor takes a pair of small, stainless steel scissors from a metal tray on the counter.

Jensen makes a petulant, whimpering sound and tries to scoot away, but when Jared scratches blunt fingernails lightly through his unevenly cut hair, the boy stills.

_Ooh you make me live_ _You're the best friend_ _that I ever had..._

In less than a minute, the doctor has snipped a stitch on either side of the tube protruding from the healing gash and pulled the embedded length out through the hole. It's over so quickly that Jared almost misses it, his focus reserved solely for Jensen and on keeping his voice from wobbling off key.

Jared wraps up the song while the doctor wipes the weeping scar with a disinfectant swab and replaces the bandages.

"I have finished," The balding doctor announces.

Jared wonders if he's supposed to stand and applaud. He doesn't.

He's spared from any reply at all by Christian who cracks the door open and peers in. The cop's face registers surprise at seeing Jared and Jensen cuddled up together on the bed and then, when he sees the doctor, his expression changes into mild disgust, as though someone has just placed a plate full of lima beans under his nose.

"Doctor Fuller," he says in a voice that sounds unnaturally neutral, eyes going flinty. "I didn't know you were going to be here."

"I was just removing the drain, Officer Kane. Everything looks good. He'll be discharged soon. Another day or two probably. I've checked with Oak Grove and Jensen is in luck, they have an opening." Doctor Fuller smiles, but it's more of a self-satisfied smirk than anything.

Jensen sticks his thumb in his mouth and twists around to put his back towards the doctor, his face mashed into the crook of Jared's neck.

Making a show of opening the door wide, Christian steps to the side, leaving a huge space for the doctor to get by. "Well, I'm sure you must be very busy. Lots of other patients to see I'll bet." He's being so obvious that Jared has a hard time not cracking up. His friend has always had a flare for the dramatic.

"Yes, I do."

As Doctor Fuller sweeps out the door, Jared realizes that he never once addressed Jensen directly.

The door swings shut and Christian comes over to stand next to the bed. "How are you doing, Jensen?"

Jensen uncurls from his position wrapped around Jared, takes his thumb out of his mouth and reaches for the cop.

Christian ruffles his hair, laughing. "I don't know if there's room for all three of us on that bed, kiddo. But hey, I wanted to ask you if you've seen any clowns around here. Besides Doctor Fuller, I mean."

There's a little frown of puzzlement on Jensen's face when he shakes his head.

"Huh, that's surprising because it looks like there was some kind of clown collision out in the hallway and no one has bothered to clean up the mess yet. I swear, there must be at least ten balloons floating on the ceiling out there." Christian tosses a thumb over his shoulder.

"Twelve," Jared mumbles into the back of Jensen's head, not meeting his friend's eyes.

"What?" Christian asks.

Resigned to the inevitable teasing, Jared confesses, "I said twelve. There are twelve balloons out in the hallway. They're for Jensen."

Christian blinks. "Oh," His gaze slides from Jared to Jensen and back. "Well, what are you waiting for? Bring them in here. Give our boy his balloons."

The balloons are as Christian had described them, clustered on the ceiling in haphazard formations. With the strings hanging down, they're within easy reach and Jared is grateful for honest people and for the balloons still being where he'd left them in his frantic dash down the corridor. He plucks the strings from the air, one by one, taking his time before heading back to the room where Jensen is waiting. Since the balloons can no longer be a surprise, anticipation will have to be the next best thing. And maybe it's better this way. Jensen doesn't do well with surprises.

Because he's holding the strings in front of himself and he has to squeeze them through the door first, his view is obstructed and he misses Jensen's initial reaction. All he hears above the squeak and rustle of the balloons as they bounce against each other is a gasp and then nothing.

Silence.

Finally, he's through the door and he can see Jensen.

Jensen is smiling.

It's the first time Jared has seen the young man smile and the utter joy transforms his face, giving him crinkles at the corners of his expressive eyes and bringing color to his pale cheeks. Suddenly, Jared sees what he's only sensed up until now. Something precious and rare. Jensen's innocence. It shines from deep inside him like a beacon in the dreary hospital room.

It's...God, it's beautiful.

Jared, feeling kind of dazed, has to clear his throat.

If this is what a smile does to him, he wonders what it's going to be like the first time he hears Jensen laugh.

He can hardly wait.

A/N:  The song Jared sings to Jensen is You're My Best Friend by the incomparable Queen.  If you'd like to listen to the song just because it's great you can find a youtube video of the band and the song here - <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c2JSUXaY-tw>


	5. Chapter 5

[](http://disneymagics.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/393/7470)

Hope of Innocents

_Chapter 5_

"Fuck! That sneaky bastard! I should have known he'd pull something like this. I should have known he'd jump the gun and have Jensen moved here before we were ready." Christian is pacing the Oak Grove lobby with long, furious strides, his compact, powerful shoulders hunched and his hands fisted as though he's ready to take on the entire facility's staff in hand-to-hand combat.

"I don't care about Dr. Fuller, when can we see Jensen?" Just as worried and pissed as his friend, Jared would probably be pacing too except the cop is already using all the available pacing space. Instead, he stands near the locked door that leads to the patients' rooms, leaning against the wall. It's as close as he's allowed to get to Jensen.

He watches Misha over at the admittance desk where he's talking - if you can call it that - to a woman whose black hair is pulled back into a severe ponytail which highlights her high cheekbones and straight, thin nose. Misha's arms are flying in emphatic, sweeping gestures as he speaks. She shakes her head, a frown on her face.

The paramedic abruptly turns and stalks over to Jared, narrowly avoiding a collision with Christian by dodging out of the cop's path. "Not until three o'clock. They won't let us in to see him until three."

"But we've been waiting here for hours."

"Yeah well, they don't seem to care about that."

An hour and a half later, the woman at the desk says, "You can see him now."

*~*~*~~*~*~*

Jensen lies listlessly on the bed. His unfocused eyes are open to mere slits and wander the room, never landing on anything or anyone. His lips are shiny with saliva, a trail of drool wetting his chin. A band of cloth stretches across his stomach from one side of the bed to the other, preventing him from sitting up.

Not that he's trying to. Not that he's really trying to move at all.

"Hey kiddo, how're you doing?" Christian asks, voice soft and tentative. A far cry from the fierce, angry growl of the lobby. He takes a slow step forward. And then another. "We came as soon as they let us."

Jared waits for the moment of recognition, the moment when Jensen will notice them, reach for them, urgent fingers quivering, like the last time he'd seen them. Before this place.

The moment doesn't come.

Jared's throat begins to close up, constricting like he's at the end of a hangman's noose.

"Jensen?" The cop takes one more step and then he's next to the bed. His hand moves to Jensen's face as though drawn there by a pulley in fits and starts. He wipes the boy's chin with the pad of his thumb, removing the drool.

There's no response.

Christian's eyes become a wasteland, devoid of any emotion. If Jared thought his friend's anger could be scary, this...emptiness is a million times worse. "They've had him for six hours and they've already given him enough drugs to send him into outer space. How is that helping him? Someone's going to answer for this," Then Christian turns and disappears out the door, the heels of his cowboy boots making a harsh thudding sound against the linoleum flooring. The noise lingers after he's gone and Jared marks his progress down the hall by the fading echo.

Everything else in this place is artificially quiet. It's a place of muted noises, muted pain, and muted lives.

The florescent light bulbs overhead give off a staticky hum as they illuminate the room. Besides the bed Jensen is on, there are two others, both empty. At three in the afternoon that doesn't mean he gets a room to himself. All it means is that his roommates aren't here right now.

The air has a stale, chemical smell to it, similar to a hospital, only somehow more cloying. Jared feels a pressure building in his sinuses like the chlorine headaches he used to get when he was eight and his parents took him for swim lessons at the YMCA's indoor pool.

His eyesight begins to tunnel and he loses his peripheral vision, loses sight of Misha's haunted face and the sterile walls and the empty beds until all he sees is Jensen. He feels a sudden and intense need to explain to the boy how this has happened, how they have all failed him so horribly. To beg his forgiveness.

Sitting on the side on the bed, he takes one of Jensen's hands in both of his. Frail and cold, the boy's hand doesn't so much as twitch to acknowledge his existence. "His hands are freezing."

"I'll get him a blanket." Although Jared's statement hadn't been addressed to anyone in particular, Misha responds so quickly it makes Jared think the paramedic is just relieved to have found some way to be of help in this God awful situation. He's out the door on his quest for a blanket before Jared can even look over to thank him.

That leaves just him and Jensen, alone in a place that feels so depressingly somber it's more like a funeral home than a place where people live.

"This isn't how it was supposed to go, you know that, don't you?" he whispers, a tear gliding down his cheek. "You were supposed to come home with me, just like I told you. We've been working so hard the last two days to make that happen, me and Christian and Doc Beaver. We are so close, sweetie, so close. You won't have to be here long."

Jensen shows no signs of hearing him. Another string of drool leaves a trail on his chin. His beautiful inner light has been snuffed out by whatever drugs have been pumped into him and Jared feels bereft without it.

He brings the young man's hand up to his mouth, blows some warm air over the raised knuckles, and presses his lips against the delicate skin. Maybe it's a strange thing to do, but it feels right so Jared doesn't try to analyze it. Jensen's skin is soft, although there are several scars on the meaty part of one palm near his thumb.

"Don't worry. We're going to get you out of here soon. I promise."

That's the important thing, the thing he most needs Jensen to know. They won't let him stay in this place.

Jared wants to tell Jensen about all the people he's been talking to, all the meetings he's attended, all the forms he's filled out, to get to the point where Jensen can come live with him in his little house out in the country. But the words, sounding like just so many excuses in his mind, get tangled on his tongue and die.

Instead, he sits in silence and plays with Jensen's fingers, measuring their length compared to his own and tracing the veins on the back of the boy's hand until eventually Jensen's bleary, green eyes close the rest of the way and he seems to fall into a deep drug-induced sleep.

Misha returns with a blanket, it's edges fraying in places, and drapes it over Jensen's still form.

"He's going to hate me now." The paramedic laments, not for the first time.

Jared sighs and tucks Jensen's hand under the blanket. "He's not going to hate you. You didn't want this to happen any more than the rest of us did. You gotta stop beating yourself up over it, man."

"Yeah, but I'm the one who was there when they came to get him. There wasn't anything I could do to stop it and...Jesus." Misha's voice wavers. "If you'd seen the way he looked at me when they-"

"The only reason you were there and I wasn't is because I was talking to the case worker from social services at the time," Jared interrupts. "It could just as easily have been me there and I wouldn't have been able to stop them either. Dr. Fuller made sure of that."

"I asked him why he did it. As soon as Jensen was gone, I went to see him in his office to ask why he didn't give us just one more day to get you cleared with social services to take care of Jensen. You know what he said?" Misha pauses and looks at Jared, eyes red-rimmed yet smoldering with indignation.

"What?" Unable to look at Misha when he asks the question, Jared pulls on a strand of blanket and watches it unravel a little more.

"He started spouting off some crap about 'consistency of care.' Can you believe that? He said that Jensen will get consistent care here and he wanted us to see how well he does at Oak Grove before we make arrangements for him to stay with you. Like we're going to change our minds based on this!" Misha's tone is scathing as he throws a hand into the air and waves it around.

Jensen makes a small, fretful sound in his sleep which pulls at something deep inside Jared. Every protective instinct he has wells up like a river overflowing its banks. Rubbing the boy's chest just in case he can take some comfort from the touch, Jared wonders how anyone can think consistent care is better than quality care.

He's happy to see Christian come back into the room and even more so to see Doc Beaver behind him.

Jensen's psychiatrist has never believed that Oak Grove is a good solution for his patient and has been a staunch supporter of Jared's from the first time he'd come by and seen him with Jensen in the hospital. Of course, the enthusiastic recommendations from both Christian and Misha had helped sway his opinion as had Jared's vows to do everything possible to provide Jensen with a secure home where he will feel safe enough to begin healing. Over the last two days, Doc Beaver has even gone as far as to spend his own time advocating with social services, hospital administration and anyone else who would listen, for Jensen to be released into Jared's care.

That's not to say the psychiatrist doesn't have his reservations. He has also been very vocal about wanting to stay involved in Jensen's care no matter what the outcome, which is why he's been appointed to Jensen's case and given certain privileges in regards to Jensen's care at Oak Grove.

"I found this hothead in the Superintendent's office, trying to incite a riot." Doc Beaver indicates Christian with an annoyed nod. "That's not going to win you any favors in a place like this."

Christian's scowl deepens. He walks over to Jensen's bed and brushes the boy's hair away from his forehead. His voice sounds hollow when he asks, "Did you see what they've done to him?"

"I was here when they brought him in. He was inconsolable. There was little else they could do."

Jared can only imagine how terrified Jensen must have been at being snatched away from the only place he's ever felt safe and thrust into an entirely foreign environment where he didn't know anyone. Much as he hates to admit it, sedating him in this instance had probably been a kindness.

But Christian doesn't see it that way. The cop makes slashing gestures through the air as he growls, "They could have let us stay with him. They could have waited one more day."

"Oak Grove has a strict policy of not allowing any visitors until the patient is settled. Usually it's a good policy. Just...not in this case." Doc Beaver shakes his head. "I do have some good news though, Jared; I just received notification that your application as care provider for Jensen has been approved."

For the span of several seconds all Jared can do is stare at the older man, not sure if his ears could be trusted. "I've been approved?"

There's a flash of amusement in the psychiatrist's eyes which he covers up quickly with a raised eyebrow. "Isn't that what we've been waiting to find out? Yes, you've been approved."

Jared's emotions are so jumbled that he can't quite get a handle on them. He's happy, of course he's happy, but he's also stunned. He shouldn't be. Doc Beaver is right, they've been waiting for this, expecting it. But now that it's actually happening it's a little...overwhelming.

Christian comes around the bed and thumps him on the back, a huge grin splitting his face. "You did it, man!"

Misha whoops and then puts both hands over his mouth, looking around sheepishly as though he's in a library and the librarian is about to kick him out.

Jared wants to pull Jensen into a hug, share this news with him, tell him what it means and see the corners of his eyes crinkle. But Jensen is lost to him right now, only the shallow rise and fall of his chest with each breath he takes giving evidence that he's more than just a fragile shell.

"Can we get him out of here today?" Jared asks, voice raspy.

"No," Doc Beaver presses his lips together and shakes his head. "He should sleep for the rest of the day and all of tonight. Come back first thing tomorrow. I'll put a stop order on all sedatives and get his release papers from Oak Grove processed in the meantime."

"Yeah, like we're leaving him here alone," Christian snorts. "I'm staying."

In total agreement, Jared crosses his arms over his chest and Misha gets a mulish look on his face.

Doc Beaver shrugs on his way out the door. "You can give it a try."

They make it another thirty-five minutes before an attendant, leading another resident, comes into the room. She helps her charge into one of the two empty beds even as she tells them, "Visiting hours were over at four o'clock. The three of you will have to leave now."

The old man she is assisting has rheumy eyes the color of wheat. His back is bowed and, despite being on the thin side, he has a very round, very noticeable beer belly that causes the hem of his shirt to ride up.

"But we were only allowed in to see Jensen at three o'clock," Jared explains in his most charming voice. "Please, if he wakes up he'll be frightened unless at least one of us is here."

Giving him a rather exasperated glare, she says, "The rules are in place for a reason. There are other people living here who deserve their privacy and your respect."

In the battle of wills that follows, there's just no contest. For every one of Jared's heart-felt pleas, she recites the same iron-clad policy that absolutely forbids overnight guests.

And then she threatens to call the police, to which Christian heatedly replies that he is the police.

The old man with the pot belly tries to get out of his bed and Jensen whimpers, still asleep, yet somehow subconsciously aware of the rising tension.

Afraid that causing a major scene, or more of a scene than they've already caused, will result in his approval as Jensen's care provider being revoked, Jared decides it's time to leave. He hustles Misha and Christian out of the building, taking comfort from the fact that he'll be back first thing in the morning to take Jensen home and they'll never have to set foot in Oak Grove ever again.

*~*~*~~*~*~*

The thought of putting anything in his mouth the next morning, even coffee, makes Jared's stomach churn.

His whole life is about to change. This is it. Today he takes responsibility for another human life. Jensen will be dependent on him to meet even his most basic needs.

Jared fights against the familiar sense of inadequacy, the feeling that he's not enough, that he's not ready.

That he's going to fail someone again.

He takes a deep breath as he walks out of his house.

He can't fail Jensen. He won't.

Severe Ponytail Lady is at the front desk when he walks in, but this time instead of directing Jared to have a seat, she immediately picks up her headset and pages Doc Beaver. Her change in attitude doesn't strike Jared as a good sign and his heart begins to pound.

Christian gets there next and together they wait for the psychiatrist while Christian tells him that Misha has been called back to work and, as much as he wants to, he won't be able to help with Jensen until his shift is over.

Jared nods absently, his mind already racing ahead to the arrival of Doc Beaver, wondering why he's been paged and what he's going to tell them. His overactive imagination creates the very real possibility that, upon second examination, his application has been denied and that Jensen will have to stay at Oak Grove. This outcome becomes such a certainty to him that by the time Doc Beaver comes through the locked door from the residents' wing of the facility, Jared is nearly hyperventilating.

"I'm glad you're here. He's awake. Come with me." Holding the door open, the psychiatrist hurries them along and Jared's dread intensifies at the lack of an explanation.

Jensen's room seems much further away from the lobby than it had yesterday. On the way, they pass a common room and what looks like a dining hall, both full of people, as well as many closed doors on either side of the corridor.

Doc Beaver stops with his hand on the knob to Jensen's room. "He hasn't eaten anything since he got here. Someone on staff was trying to get him to eat breakfast."

That's all he needs to say for Jared to know exactly what he's going to see once the door opens.

Sure enough, Jensen is in a defensive crouch on the floor, chest heaving. He has a thumb in his mouth and an arm protectively over his head. His eyes are huge, whites showing around the green of his irises as they dart wildly around the room.

Desperate to end the boy's terror, Jared steps forward, Jensen's name on the tip on his tongue.

"Oh kiddo," Christian murmurs, also moving closer.

There's a span of seconds when Jensen freezes, watching them like a cornered rabbit might watch a pair of foxes.

Then he's on his hands and knees and dashing toward them.

Jared figures the boy will latch onto Christian and, if the way the cop kneels down is any indication, Christian thinks so too. But with a heart-wrenching sob, Jensen launches himself at Jared, wraps his arms around Jared's calves and looks up at him, begging to be saved.

It's not a conscious decision, it's automatic. Jared leans over and picks the boy up. Jensen's manic grip shifts easily from Jared's legs to his neck, legs clamping around his waist.

The bulge of padding is gone from the boy's midsection, but not from his hips, leading Jared to the conclusion that the bandages have been removed from his healing knife wound and that he's still wearing a diaper.

"Shh sweetheart, it's okay. I'm not gonna let anything bad happen to you," he soothes.

For as tall as he is, nearly six feet, the boy is surprisingly light and Jared has no trouble holding him. Swaying a little from side to side, he keeps up a steady litany of comforting sounds until Jensen's breath stops hitching.

"You're a natural," Christian says, voice throaty and smile crooked.

Jensen drops his head to Jared's shoulder and...Jesus...it's too early for this. Jared knows it's too soon. He hasn't even taken Jensen home yet and he's already done for, finished.

There's nothing he wouldn't do to keep this boy safe. Nothing.

He's so screwed.

He turns his head and presses a kiss to Jensen's temple.

Doc Beaver clears his throat. "Jared, can I talk to you in private? Just for a couple minutes," he adds quickly.

"Christian?" Jared asks as he moves over to the bed and begins extricating himself from the tangle of Jensen's long arms and legs, shushing him and getting him settled on top of the frayed blanket with whispered promises to be right back.

The cop nods, "Yeah, I've got him," and takes Jared's place next to Jensen, a hand on the teenager's back.

Outside the room, Doc Beaver scratches at the greying whiskers on his chin and fixes Jared in a steely gaze. "I just need to make sure you understand something," he says, tone as brittle as parchment. "That...in there...that isn't love or even friendship. Jensen doesn't know what those things are so he can't feel them. Not for you. Not for anybody. Not yet."

"I-I don't...I didn't..." Jared stammers.

"He's using you," the psychiatrist states flatly. "I know it sounds harsh. I don't mean it to be. But you need to know. He's using you because he's smart and he's figured out that you'll protect him. That's all it is, survival instinct."

"Why is that a bad thing?" Jared hopes the hurt isn't noticeable in his tone.

Doc Beaver cocks an eyebrow. "It's not, kid, as long as you accept it for what it is and don't read too much into it. It's the beginning of trust and he's going to need that. You have to teach him to trust you. His regression is the key to earning his trust."

"How? What do I need to do?"

"You need to find a way to create a real bond between the two of you. I have some ideas for you to try and the first one is something we've already talked about. We can give it a try right here before you go home. If it works, we'll be addressing two of his major issues at the same time - his trust issues and his need to increase caloric intake. Are you sure you're ready for this?"

There's nothing for Jared to consider. "Yes, I'm ready."

"Okay then, you go in to him. I'll go get it from the kitchen. Be back in a minute."

When the psychiatrist comes back, he's got a baby bottle in his hand.

"We're really going to go through with this?" Christian asks, a skeptical frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. "What's in there anyway?"

"It's a supplement, whole milk fortified with extra vitamins and minerals plus electrolytes and easily digested proteins," the psychiatrist explains. "It won't take the place of regular meals; he should still get most of his daily nutritional value by eating a wide variety of healthy fruits, vegetables, meats, and grains...all the same foods you would choose to eat yourself." He holds the bottle out to Jared. "Think of this as an opportunity to spend a little time everyday just relaxing and being close to Jensen. It's good for bonding, sort of like a trust building exercise."

Jared takes the bottle and holds it gingerly. It's warm and brings back memories of helping his mom feed Megan when she was a baby.

A lifetime ago.

"Are you sure about this? I mean, I know we've talked about it, but...shouldn't I be encouraging him to feed himself?"

"Not yet," Doc Beaver replies. "Jensen's regression is his way of coping with everything that's happened to him. Forcing him to adapt at this point, to conform his behavior to our idea of normal, is the worst thing we could do. You'll need to work within the framework he's built for himself. It's the only way to reach him. First you need to gain his trust. The rest will follow."

"Yeah, okay." Jared sits on the bed next to Jensen. He tips the bottle up, placing the nipple against the boy's lips, not pressing down, just nudging gently.

Jensen takes to the bottle right away and soon he's happily sucking away. After a couple minutes, he nestles in close against Jared's side. Their eyes meet and lock.

Jared can't look away. He's mesmerized by the soulful, green eyes gazing back at him. An eternal sadness radiates from their depths.

"What do you say, Jensen, are you ready to come home with me?"

Jensen wriggles around and Jared's not sure what he's doing. He has to reposition the bottle to keep it from slipping out of Jensen's mouth while the teenager squirms and twists until he's cuddled up in Jared's lap, one hand firmly twisted in the material of Jared's jacket.

Then he looks up at Jared and nods.


	6. Chapter 6

[](http://disneymagics.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/393/7470)

Hope of Innocents

_Chapter 6_

They've only just walked in the door when Jared realizes he's not ready for this.

Jensen is clinging to his neck and each time Jared tries to put him down the boy begins to fuss. The soft, mournful cries gut Jared and have him picking Jensen back up and trying to soothe him.

"What am I doing wrong, Chris?" he asks his friend, feeling woefully incompetent.

Christian comes up behind them and puts a hand on Jared's shoulder. "You're not doing anything wrong. He just needs time to get used to it here, to see that this is a safe place. It's understandable that he's a little anxious. Considering the circumstances, he's doing great and so are you."

Christian's words make a lot of sense and Jared pushes his feelings of inadequacy back into a dark corner of his mind.

"Why don't you show him around?" Christian suggests.

"Right. Why didn't I think of that?" Grateful for the diversion, Jared smiles. "How about a tour of your new home, sweetie?"

They start off in the living room where Jared points out the framed picture of his mom and dad, their arms around each other, all smiles for the expensive photographer at their 20th wedding anniversary party. It's been about a year and a half since Jared's last visit to San Antonio. He isn't very close to his parents anymore - hasn't been for a while now.

In the kitchen, Jared shows Jensen the little table and four chairs where they'll be eating most of their meals and the large bay window that overlooks a stretch of undeveloped land behind the house. Next, he shows the boy his office and then the two bedrooms.

"And this one's yours," he says as he carries Jensen, Christian trailing behind them, into what used to be the guest room. The sheets on the double bed are clean and the comforter is brand new with blue, green and cream colored squares on it. "What do you think?"

Jensen looks around, a bewildered crease between his eyebrows, and Jared really wishes he knew what the boy was thinking.

"I wasn't sure what colors you like so I bought sort of plain bedding, but we can always get a different set if you don't like it. And we can repaint the walls any color you want, they don't have to be beige or, you know, we could put up wallpaper if you want something more interesting." Jared brings his rambling to a stop and looks at Christian for a little help as Jensen continues to stare at the room as though he's not sure what it has to do with him.

Christian pulls out one of the drawers in the dresser and holds up a pair of grey sweatpants. "I see you've already been shopping. These look pretty comfy. What else did you get?" He crosses to the small closet and opens the door.

The effect on Jensen is immediate. He inhales loudly, bites down on his lower lip, and his entire body begins to tremble.

"Jensen? What is it?" Jared asks.

"Shoot, I'm sorry, kiddo. I forgot about the...Let's just go back to the living room for a little while." Christian closes the closet door and ushers them out of the room.

As soon as they cross the threshold Jensen calms down, although it takes a couple minutes before he stops shaking.

Christian rubs Jensen's back and his voice is a deep, soothing drawl as he says, "We aren't ever going to make you stay in a closet. That's never going to happen to you again. I know you don't have any reason to believe us; you don't have any reason to trust us yet, but you'll see you don't have to be scared anymore."

Jared remembers the evidence found in Jensen's house by the police - shallow grooves on the inside of the door apparently made by fingernails as well as a kind of nest constructed out of soiled clothing.

His stomach flips over violently and Jared feels nauseous.

Jensen isn't all that heavy, but the continued strain of carrying him around is beginning to take a toll on Jared's arm and back muscles. He shifts the weight over to his hip as much as possible. What he wants to do is sit down with Jensen, cuddle him, and let him know that everything is going to be all right.

The lack of a couch in the living room now seems like a huge mistake because the recliners are large and comfy, but they're really not designed to hold two people. He's going to need to go buy a couch tomorrow, maybe after Doc Beaver's scheduled home visit.

Giving a resigned sigh, Jared sinks into the nearest recliner, Jensen held in front of him so that the boy is straddling his lap. Unexpectedly, it's very comfortable with Jensen a warm weight resting against his chest. Jared runs a hand through the hair at the nape of the teenager's neck, lightly scratching his scalp the way he's learned Jensen likes, and the boy gives a hitching sigh as he relaxes into the caress.

"I'm so glad you're here," Jared tells him. "So very glad."

*~*~*~~*~*~*

It's almost time for lunch and they haven't moved from the recliner. Christian and Jared have been talking about celebrity gossip, keeping the discussion topics light in deference to listening ears. Jensen's eyelids have been getting lower and lower with every blink, his body getting heavier and heavier where he rests against Jared.

"Are you guys getting hungry?" Christian asks. "I could probably make us some sandwiches."

Jared looks at Jensen's drooping body posture. "I don't know, I think maybe Jensen needs a nap and then we can have a late lunch after that."

Christian follows his gaze, smiling that fond smile he seems to reserve only for Jensen. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea. It's been a tiring day already what with...well, what with everything. I could probably use a nap myself." He opens his mouth in an exaggerated yawn and then gives Jensen a cocky wink.

He gets a confused blink from Jensen in return.

"Come on, Jensen. Why don't you try out your new bed?" Jared says as he lifts Jensen up and carries him into his new bedroom.

Jensen goes willingly into the bed, loose-limbed and compliant. It's an easy matter to pull his pants off so that he's left in only a t-shirt and his diaper. With a kiss on the forehead, Jared tucks him under the comforter.

"Sleep tight, sweetheart."

Jared turns off the light, leaves the door ajar, and walks out of the room feeling really good about how the day is going for the first time since waking up that morning.

This is going to work out. He can be what Jensen needs; he can give the boy a sense of security and teach him what it means to be loved unconditionally. Everything is going to be just fine. He can do this.

"That went well," Christian whispers.

"Yeah, he was really sleepy." Jared smiles, a pleased feeling warming him from the inside.

Before he can finish congratulating himself on a job well done, he hears a sound behind him and turns around to see Jensen crawling out the door and down the hallway back to where he and Christian are standing in the living room.

"I guess I spoke too soon." Christian's tone is playful, but his expression is apologetic.

Jared smiles in response. "Yeah, way to jinx me, Kane. Should have known it was too easy, I suppose." Then he goes to kneel in front of Jensen. "Hey Jensen, what are you doing out of bed, sweetie. I thought you were sleepy."

The teenager just sits back on his padded bottom and looks at Jared with wide, puzzled eyes.

"Let's give this another try." Jared takes him back into his room and tucks him under the covers again. "This is your room and this is your bed. It's okay for you to sleep in here when you're tired."

Jensen still looks sleepy. He lifts a hand to his face, rubbing at his red, irritated-looking eyes with the knuckles of a loose fist.

"Christian and I are right in the living room if you need us. We aren't going anywhere so you get some rest and I'll be back in to check on you in a little while. All right?"

Jensen's eyes close obediently and Jared feels a pang of anguish for this sweet, lost boy who is trying so hard to understand where he fits in, what's expected of him. He places his hand on the crown of Jensen's head and just leaves it there, thumb stroking away the worry lines on his forehead. Once he thinks the boy is asleep, he tiptoes out of the room, this time closing the door behind himself.

Christian cocks an eyebrow at him as he creeps stealthily down the hallway. "How'd it go?"

"I think he's really down this time."

"So, what do we do now?"

They end up playing Xbox with the sound muted, but Jared is antsy, wanting to check on Jensen while also knowing that the teenager needs to learn how to do this. As long as everything is quiet in Jensen's room, he needs to relax and give him some independence. Jared loses the game of Madden and even though only half an hour has passed, he can't hold out any longer.

"I'm going to go see how he's doing," he tells Christian.

Christian grins. "I was wondering how much longer you were going to last."

"Yeah, because you're not the least bit curious. You don't want to make sure he's okay. It's just me. I'm the only one here who cares," Jared teases, knowing that Christian wouldn't be here, wouldn't have ditched work for over a week if he didn't care a whole hell of a lot.

"Hey now, I never said that." Christian frowns with a mock pout and Jared smiles at his small victory.

Still smiling, he listens briefly at Jensen's door. When he hears nothing, he turns the knob and tries to crack it open to peek inside. But instead of swinging easily the way he expects it to, the door won't budge. It's stuck. Smile disappearing as a sick dread washes over him, he pushes harder and hears a frightened yelp and then some scuffling.

Free of the blockage, the door shoots forward at Jared's next push and he sees Jensen scrambling away from him.

"Jensen! What were you doing sitting up against the door? Have you been there the whole time?" The words are startled out of him and as soon as they pass his lips Jared wants to kick himself. The answer is immediately obvious. Of course he has.

The boy cringes and lifts an arm as if to ward off a blow.

That's all Jared needs to see before he's on the floor next to him, wrapping long arms around him in a protective embrace.

"Oh sweetie, please don't. It's okay," he croons softly, trying to make up for the perceived harshness of his earlier tone. "You just startled me, that's all. You didn't do anything wrong."

Christian appears in the doorway, a worried expression on his face. He looks at them and runs a hand through his dark brown hair. "I take it the nap was unsuccessful." At Jared's wry nod, he continues, "Well, I guess that means it's time for lunch. Are you hungry yet, kiddo?"

Jensen peers up at Christian from under lowered lashes and nods.

Jared is grateful Christian is here. He's not sure how he'd be doing this without him, but he's going to have to figure it out in a hurry because Christian has used up all his vacation time and the Chief can't spare him any longer. He'll be working the night shift tomorrow.

When he repositions Jensen to lift him up, the darkened blue stripe on his diaper alerts Jared to the need for a change. "Hey Chris, can you go ahead and start lunch while I change Jensen?"

"Sure, no problem."

Once Christian has gone to the kitchen to make grilled cheese and ham sandwiches, Jared retrieves the large padded mat he's purchased for just this purpose and unrolls it on the carpet next to Jensen. "Lie down on your changing pad while I get you a new diaper, sweetie." Giving the cushioned mat an encouraging pat, Jared waits until he's sure Jensen has the right idea and then goes to get one of the fresh diapers off the stack near the dresser.

Following the instructions he'd received at the hospital, Jared unfastens and removes the soiled diaper. Jensen parts his legs without being asked, his demeanor artless, totally free of any sense of shame whatsoever.

Even though he's done this before, Jared's not completely comfortable with it. He'd been closely supervised during his lessons at the hospital, but here at home it feels so...so intimate.

He cleans Jensen off with a moist towelette and rubs in ointment to prevent a rash, keeping his face neutral and his hands gentle.

"Lift up for me, Jensen," Jared says when he has the fresh diaper ready.

Jensen lifts his hips off the ground so Jared can slide the diaper underneath him and fasten it with the tape. The whole process only takes about ten minutes and, since Jensen knows what to do, it's really not a big deal.

"All done. Let's go to the kitchen and make sure Christian doesn't eat all the food." Smiling, Jared straightens and walks out of the room, turning at the door to check on his boy, his Jensen.

Jensen starts crawling along behind him and Jared is suddenly glad the floors are clean. That's one more thing he hasn't really thought about until now, the kitchen floor will need to be mopped regularly, the carpets vacuumed frequently.

The list of lifestyle changes he's going to have to make keeps getting longer and it's not the changes themselves that have Jared's mind swimming, but the fact that he's still having these revelations. Jensen is here, living in his house, and Jared is only just now realizing that the floors need to be spotless at all times.

He's still coming across things he hasn't thought about before.

How long can that go on? What if he misses something? What if he forgets something and Jensen gets hurt because of his carelessness?

The idea of Jensen getting hurt because of him paralyzes Jared for a moment. He stops in the hallway and just stand there, thoughts racing, breath quickening, trying to figure out what else he might be overlooking.

It's the small tug on his pants leg that breaks through his daze. He looks down into uncertain, green eyes. Jensen's lower lip is held firmly between his teeth, head tilted to the side, shaggy hair falling across his forehead.

Taking a deep breath, Jared pastes a smile on his face and runs a hand through the boy's bangs. The strands are soft and the contact between them seems to ground them both.

The smell of melted cheese, cooked ham and hot butter greets them as they come into the kitchen. Three plates sit on the tile-topped table, each holding a sandwich and a sprig of green grapes. One of the sandwiches has already been cut into bite-sized pieces.

"You guys ready to eat?" Christian grins, obviously pleased with himself.

Jared's mouth is watering just from the smell. "Mmmm, looks great. I'm starved. How about you, Jensen?"

From the floor, Jensen holds out his arms to be picked up as though afraid he might be made to eat down there.

Jared quickly scoops him up and places him in a chair, popping a bite of sandwich into Jensen's mouth before even sitting down himself.

A blissful look on his face, Jensen chews, swallows, and hums.

Jared doubts Christian could look any prouder as he says, "Good, huh? It's my specialty."

Jensen licks the butter from his lips and stares at his plate.

"That's your plate and your food, sweetie. You don't have to wait to eat it, you know? Anytime you feel ready for another bite, you can have it." Jared waits a beat and when Jensen continues to sit there, staring at the food, he plucks a grape off the stem and holds it to his mouth.

With a shake of his head, Jensen purses his lips and juts out his jaw.

Christian chortles, eyebrows raised.

The small act of defiance is expected in a way. Jared has had several sessions alone with Doc Beaver prior to this day and, during those meetings, the psychiatrist tried to prepare him for certain behavioral issues he might encounter, this being one of them. A test of limits, of boundaries. Sudden mood swings, from happy to sad, from complacent to defiant.

"You can't only eat the sandwich. You have to eat the grapes too. They're healthy and Doc Beaver says you need to have a balanced diet."

Jared's first attempt at reason is met with a stubborn pout, but this isn't the first time he's dealt with a picky eater and he isn't ready to give up quite yet.

"Okay, what if I tell you that _I_ want you to have a balanced diet? Will you try the grape for me? It's good." Jared softens his expression while wiggling the grape in front of the boy's mouth.

Jensen gives him a sideways glance.

The seconds tick by in silence.

Christian turns away and Jared's not sure if he's too upset to watch or if he's trying to hide his amusement. With Chris, it could be either one.

This test of wills really isn't the way Jared wants to spend his first meal with Jensen in their home. He's about to relent and feed Jensen another bite of sandwich, chalking this one up to a no-win situation, when the boy opens his mouth and lets Jared place the grape on his tongue.

From then on, each bite, whether it's sandwich or fruit, is accompanied by the thrumming sound of Jensen's contentment.

Alternating between eating his own lunch and feeding Jensen, Jared notices when the teenager begins to slow down. As his plate empties, Jensen chews slower and, after a while, his eyes lose focus and his eyelids start to droop. The number of times he chews each bite before he swallows grows, like he's on automatic pilot, not completely awake and yet unwilling to miss out on the rest of his meal.

It's simultaneously the most adorable thing he's ever seen and heartbreakingly sad.

"Are you falling asleep, Jensen? Do you want to take a break from eating and go take that nap now?" he asks gently.

Stubborn streak back in place, Jensen blinks his eyes while shaking his head, hard, and asks for more by opening his mouth.

Because he's still severely underweight, denying Jensen food goes against every protective instinct in Jared's body so there's no way he's going to fight him on this. As long as he's asking to be fed, Jared's going to keep putting food in his mouth.

Every now and then, Jensen's eyes slip all the way closed, he stops chewing and his head lolls forward only for him to immediately catch himself and get back to the business of eating.

Jared scoots his chair closer and gets ready to prevent him from slipping off his seat or hitting his head on the table.

"He's exhausted. No wonder he was giving you such a hard time about that first grape," Christian whispers. "He's too tired to be thinking straight."

"Yeah, you were right about him fighting sleep. I can't believe he's still upright."

Just then, Jensen sways drunkenly and Jared catches him, putting an arm around his shoulders to hold him steady. There's still a mashed up grape in his mouth, but the boy is no longer chewing, his head falling to rest against Jared's shoulder.

"Swallow Jensen," Jared prompts, not wanting him to choke in his sleep.

Eyes still closed, Jensen swallows and Jared laughs.

Picking the boy up, Jared carries him to bed.

*~*~*~~*~*~*

Misha comes over at the end of his shift, still in his paramedic uniform - blue slacks with a yellow and blue jacket. Jensen is sleeping soundly when he gets there, so they fill him in on everything that has happened since bringing him home that morning.

"I think the bed is going to be an ongoing problem if we don't figure out a solution," Misha says at the end of the story. Also, you're going to need a bedtime routine, you know, something that you do with him to make him feel secure that will help him fall asleep."

The same thought has already occurred to Jared. They can't wait for Jensen to pass out from sheer exhaustion before they can get him into bed every night. There's got to be an easier way.

"I agree, but there's something I don't understand; he slept in the hospital bed. Why is this different?"

"Um, actually...he didn't sleep real well in the hospital bed either," Christian looks at Misha who wrinkles his nose and nods.

"That's right, he didn't."

"What do you mean? I saw him."

Christian sighs. "You saw him falling asleep with one of us in the room with him, most of the time _on_ the bed. Plus, we usually had to put the railing up on one side while we were on the other side. And even then, once they began to cut back on the pain meds and he stopped being drowsy all the time, it was a tossup whether he would sleep or not."

"I have an idea," Misha says.

The coy look Jared gets from the paramedic makes him wonder what he's about to hear. But really, how strange could it be?

"You need to get Jensen a crib and I know a carpenter who can build you one that will fit him."

"A crib? Misha, that's…really?" Christian splutters.

"Maybe we could just have railings put on his bed. Make it look more like the hospital bed," Jared suggests.

With a shrug, Misha drawls, "Maybe."

Jared decides to ask Doc Beaver about it tomorrow.


	7. Chapter 7

[](http://disneymagics.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/393/7470)

Hope of Innocents

_Chapter 7_

The need for some kind of workable daily schedule quickly becomes apparent. Jensen doesn't wake up from his afternoon nap until four hours later which means that when they try to put him down for bed that evening, he's wide awake. It's well after midnight when the teenager falls asleep for the night. Misha and Christian stay the entire time, only leaving for their own homes once they're sure Jensen won't be getting out of bed again.

Jared wakes the next morning feeling groggy. No amount of coffee helps. Irritated and itchy, his eyes feel like grains of salt are embedded in the corneas.

The weather isn't cooperating either. Low, grey clouds obscure the sun. They scuttle across the sky, tossed about by strong gusts of wind. Throughout the morning, Jensen's mood mirrors the ever-changing cloud formations, alternating between clingy and sulky, affectionate and cranky.

Even though on a purely intellectual level he understands that Jensen is confused and dealing with change the only way he knows how, Jared can't help but feel he's responsible for Jensen's moodiness. If only he were doing a better job of caring for him, Jensen wouldn't feel it necessary to cower in the corner one minute and curl up in his lap like a forlorn kitten the next.

With Misha working all day and Christian getting caught up on his sleep so he'll be alert on patrol this evening, Jared is on his own for the morning. Reinforcements will be arriving later in the form of Doc Beaver. The psychiatrist is making his first court-appointed home visit in the afternoon. These visits will occur every couple of days at first and then, as long as everything seems to be going well, they'll be reduced to once a week and, eventually, to once a month.

Jared is anxious for Doc Beaver to get there. He has a ton of questions. But for now all the responsibility for Jensen's care rests with him.

Things go from bad to worse when Jared tries to explain to Jensen that he has some errands to run later in the day and that Christian will be coming over to stay with him for a couple of hours.

Tears well up in the teenager's soulful eyes.

"I won't be gone long. I'm only going to buy a couch so we'll have something big enough to sit on together."

Distraught for reasons Jared can only guess at, Jensen's breathe hitches several times in rapid succession and his chin quivers.

"Oh Jensen, don't cry. I won't go if you don't want me to. I'll stay here. Please sweetheart."

Nothing Jared says makes any difference. The tears roll down Jensen's cheeks and he begins to sob, burying his head in his arms. Brokenhearted, helpless keening fills the house, He's crying so hard that, for several long, agonizing seconds, he doesn't inhale. His breath is caught in his heaving chest. He's not getting any air.

Jared rubs the boy's back, quietly praying for him to take a breath. "Breathe Jensen. Please breathe."

After what seems like an impossibly long time, the inhale comes as a shuddering, wheezing, frantic gasp that sounds painful and raw and only makes him cry harder.

Swallowing the lump in his throat and blinking against the sting in his own eyes, Jared picks Jensen up and takes him to one of the recliners where he cuddles the boy against his chest. Without any thought he begins to sing a song from one of Megan's favorite musicals. It's sweet and sad, but full of hope and love.

_Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place_ _Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace_ _Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste_ _It all revolves around you_ _And there's no mountain too high_ _No river too wide_ _Sing out this song,_ _I'll be there by your side_

He finds himself rocking from side to side and Jensen slowly calms with the gentle, swaying motion. His sobs taper off to intermittent hiccuping snuffles.

"Feeling better?" Jared whispers as he wipes away a stray tear.

Jensen nods and snuggles closer.

A rocking chair gets added to the mental list of purchases to be made at the furniture store along with a couch.

If he can ever leave his house again.

*~*~*~~*~*~*

Doc Beaver rings the doorbell at two o'clock and Jared answers the door while Jensen hides behind one of the recliners in the living room.

"He's still getting used to being here," Jared feels the need to explain as they walk into the living room and Jensen shyly peeks out from his hiding spot.

"Understandable," the psychiatrist says, his expression impassive. "He's been here for what? One whole day?"

"Something like that." Jared smiles, relieved to get some validation that Jensen's behavior isn't a reflection on his poor care-taking skills. "How do these visits work, Doc?"

"First of all, we're going to be seeing a lot of each other in the coming months so no more of that Doc Beaver crap. Just call me Jim. These visits may be court-appointed, but I'm really just here to help you and to help Jensen. I'll keep track of how Jensen is doing and make sure you're both settling in all right. I'll probably have some questions for you and I want you to feel free to ask me about anything that might be worrying you."

Jared lets out a breath as he thinks about all the questions he has. There are so many. It's a relief to finally have someone here who can answer them.

Jim crouches in front of his patient and gives him a small, kind smile. "How are you doing, Jensen?"

Wary but not openly fearful, Jensen sticks his thumb in his mouth and stares at his doctor.

Jim nods solemnly as though Jensen has answered his question. "That's fine then," he says as he stands and turns to Jared. "So, tell me how things are going."

Jared tells Jim everything. Being honest with Jensen's doctor is the only way to get the answers he needs, so he tells him about the situation with the bed and how Jensen doesn't seem to understand that he's supposed to sleep there. He explains about the hours he'd spent the previous night, coaxing and cajoling the boy into lying down in the bed, how he'd rubbed his back and talked to him until he thought he'd fallen asleep only to have him pop back up as soon as Jared left the room.

Jim listens patiently, tapping a pen on the notebook he has with him.

Finally, he tells Jim about Misha's crib suggestion. Then he stands there and waits to be told he's an idiot.

Jim's response comes as a surprise.

"Couldn't hurt to give it a try."

"The crib? Really? I mean, as Jensen's care-giver I want to make sure he's comfortable, but...a crib just seems too...well, too...unconventional," Jared trails off uncertainly.

"You think of yourself as Jensen's care-giver?" Jim asks.

The topic change startles Jared. He opens his mouth and then closes it again. He's not sure what he's supposed to say.

"I'm just asking because yesterday at Oak Grove it didn't seem that way. It seemed as though you thought of yourself as Jensen's protector, as his advocate, his guardian in the truest sense of the word." Jim gives Jensen a pointed glance and then returns his steady gaze to Jared. "I need to know who I'm dealing with here. Am I dealing with Jensen's care-giver or am I dealing with his guardian?"

Jared swipes his tongue over dry lips, wetting them, before he says, "I'm not sure I understand the difference."

"The difference is this. Do you what to be the person who provides for Jensen's basic needs? Or do you want to be the person he turns to for emotional support? The person he learns to trust in a fundamental way."

"I want to be the person who teaches him what it means to be loved unconditionally," Jared answers, his voice catching.

"Then you need to ask yourself what you would be willing to do for your child. His own parents taught him what it means to be despised, to be in pain, and to be in constant danger. It's up to you to teach him the opposite of those things. Right now it's like he's lost in perpetual darkness, Every cruel act his parents perpetrated on him has pushed him further and further into a deep, black hole. You have to lead him out."

They talk about many things after that, but Jared can't stop thinking about one question - what does he want to be to Jensen?

Christian gets there in time to ask Jim a couple of his own questions.

The stress of another day in a strange place takes its toll on Jensen and the boy falls asleep on top of Christian in one of the recliners soon after Jim leaves, giving Jared the opportunity to run his errands without a major fuss. He picks the largest couch and the most cushiony rocking chair he can find at the first store he walks into. Price isn't a factor and he gladly agrees to the extra charges for rush delivery. He's back home and thanking Christian for watching Jensen before the teenager even wakes up and realizes he's gone.

*~*~*~~*~*~*

_That night, Jared dreams of an empty crib and the flashing lights of an ambulance that drives past his house over and over again. Instead of a siren, he hears a deep rumbling noise, like the growl of a huge beast, every time the ambulance passes by._

_In his dream, something is missing. If he can find it everything will be all right. If he can just remember what he's looking for. If that damn ambulance will go away he'll be able to think. Surely, then he'll know what he's lost._

Lightning flashes nearby followed by a loud crack of thunder and Jared sits bolt upright, the uneasy feeling from his dream chasing him into wakefulness. His heart is beating jack-hammer fast and he doesn't know why.

It's only a thunderstorm, nothing to be upset about.

Nothing to be upset about unless you're afraid of loud noises.

In his haste to get out of bed he gets tangled in the bedding, pulling it along with him like the train of a wedding dress and nearly falling flat on his face when it gets caught up on the bedpost. Cutting through the connecting bathroom, Jared flings open the door to Jensen's room.

Outside Jensen's window the sky erupts in a stunning burst of light and the house shakes with a peal of thunder which rattles the glass in its pane.

Jensen's bed is empty, the comforter crumpled up in a heap at the foot. Contrary to any rational thought process, Jared picks up the comforter and looks underneath, even going as far as to give it a shake, as if the boy could be hiding within the folds. Then he looks under the bed.

Jensen isn't there.

"Jensen!" Jared calls, his voice louder than he intends and filled with a mind-numbing panic he only remembers feeling one other time in his life.

No one answers his frantic call and Jared begins to run from room to room, turning on all the lights as he goes. He looks everywhere he can think of and then goes back and looks again, searching under every piece of furniture, inside cupboards and closets, behind the chest of drawers.

There's no sign of him anywhere. It's like he's disappeared, like he never existed at all. He's just gone. It's happening again and Jared feels as though he's losing his mind.

No, Jensen isn't gone. He has to be somewhere. Since he isn't in the house, he must be outside.

Throwing open the front door, Jared rushes out into the dark. Rain pelts down, quickly soaking through his pajama pants and shirt. The wind tosses his hair wildly. Cold sweat and rain water combine to run down his neck and under his collar.

How long has the storm been going? How long before it woke him? How far can Jensen have gone?

The storm is fierce and if Jensen is out here with only his pajamas on, he's got to be miserable - freezing cold and absolutely petrified.

Jared takes off toward the open field behind his house, long legs eating up the yards, until he realizes he has no idea which way Jensen went. The boy could be anywhere. He could be lying on the ground five feet away and Jared wouldn't be able to see him in the dark.

He needs a flashlight.

He needs help.

His phone is in his jacket pocket which is in the hall closet. He races back inside and the first call he makes is to Christian. His friend will know what to do.

The cop answers his cell on the second ring. "Jared, what's going on?" His voice has the crisp, authoritative tone he uses when he's on duty and Jared realizes Christian is probably out patrolling in his squad car.

"Jensen's gone." The words come out in a breathless rasp.

"He's what?'

"He's gone. The storm woke me up and when I went to check on him, he wasn't there. He's...Christian, h-he...he's not in the house. I've looked everywhere." Barely able to get the words out through his constricting throat, Jared stops talking to catch his breath and realizes that he's panting so hard he's in danger of hyperventilating.

"Jared, don't panic. We'll find him. I'm on my way right now. Stay on the phone with me, I'm coming."

Christian is still talking to him, his voice strident. Jared can hear the words, but the meaning is drowned out by the white noise that fills his head - his mother's hysterical crying. It's her voice that he hears - _Why did you let her walk home from Cammie's house all by herself? Now she's gone. Gone Jared! And it's all your fault."_

It's the same voice and the same words he hears in his head every time he fucks something up.

"Jared! Jared!" Christian's shout breaks through his muddled stupor and he's amazed to find that he's still standing in his foyer, teeth chattering, dripping wet and holding the phone to his ear. A gust of wind drives sluicing rain through the open door behind him.

"C-Chris?"

"Jared! Jesus, I thought I'd lost you there, man. Don't do that to me." His friend sounds profoundly relieved. "I know what you're thinking and this isn't the same thing. We _are_ going to find him! Tell me you believe me."

"I-I don't...we never f-found Meggie and...h-he's not h-here." Jared glances desperately around the entryway and what he can see of the rest of the house from there, hoping that Jensen might miraculously appear.

"We're finding him! I'll be there in like fifteen minutes. Just...talk to me. Tell me everything. Where have you looked?"

"I've searched the whole house. He must have gone outside," Jared says through chattering teeth.

After a brief silence, Christian asks, "Are the doors locked? All the windows closed?"

Jared turns and looks at the open front door, at the porch bathed in the glow of light from inside his house, and at the wind-whipped trees out in the yard. His brain feels like it's been soaked in formaldehyde. He's quickly losing the ability to think straight. "The front door's open, but that's because I opened it," he finally says.

"J-man, stay with me here." Christian coaxes, voice firm. "Was it locked before you opened it?"

Jared can't remember. He'd been in such a panic that he can't remember whether he'd unlocked the door before opening it or whether it had already been unlocked. "I don't know," he whispers into the phone. "I think it was locked."

"Okay, let's go with that. Listen to me, Jared, I doubt Jensen would have locked the door behind himself if he was running scared. So, he's probably still inside the house. I bet he's found a cubbyhole somewhere and crammed himself into it to hide."

"I've already looked everywhere he might fit."

"Then start looking in all the impossible places. If he's desperate enough, he'll find a way. I know that kid, I spent a week in the hospital with him, and he's capable of hiding in some very imaginative places."

Scanning the darkened ground outside one last time, Jared slowly shuts the door and turns to begin searching the house again.

Phone held to his ear, he starts in the living room. There aren't many places to hide in here so it doesn't take long. As he moves around checking the three inch gap underneath the coffee table - like anyone could squeeze under there - and behind the recliners - for the third time - he gives Christian a detailed account of where he's looking. Christian occasionally offers suggestions based on what he knows of Jared's house and of Jensen.

"Have you looked inside the movie cabinet?"

"No, I...how would he even get in there?"

"Just look."

Jared looks. "No, he's not there."

"How about behind the door?"

"Already looked." He looks again. Frustration clear in his voice, he says, "Chris, if he's outside, we're wasting time. He could be getting further away and we don't have a clue where he's going."

"If he's outside we're going to need a lot more help. If you haven't found him by the time I get there, I'll start mobilizing a search party. We can't officially list him as a missing person yet, but I have a lot of favors I can call in. It's going to be okay. We'll find him. You have to believe that."

Jared scrubs a hand down his face as he moves into the kitchen.

Jensen isn't in the cupboards, or the pantry or under the sink.

He's on his way back to search the bedrooms again when he hears it, the faint rattling sound of something vibrating against metal. Following the sound, he comes to where the washer and dryer are inset into an alcove off the hallway. The noise is coming from somewhere around the dryer. Jared hops up to sit on the dryer and looks over the side.

Wedged between the wall and the dryer, like a cork in a bottle, is Jensen.

Relief slams though his body and Jared feels dizzy with it, as though he's just consumed a fifth of vodka on an empty stomach. "Oh God, I found him," he breathes into the phone.

Chris lets go with a torrent of curse words, releasing all the worry he must have been keeping tightly at bay while trying to hold Jared together over the phone. "Is he okay?"

Jensen is curled into a ball and all Jared can see of him is the curve of his back and a tuft of hair at the nape of his neck. "He's...I can't tell."

"I'm pulling into your driveway now," his friend says just before he disconnects the call.

The teenager isn't moving except for the tremors shaking his thin frame and causing him to knock against the dryer - the rattling noise Jared had heard.

"It's just a thunderstorm. Nothing to be scared of, sweetie," Jared tells the terrified boy, carefully easing an arm into the narrow space until he can touch Jensen's shoulder. It's an awkward position to hold, his elbow forced into an unnatural angle while he crouches on top of the dryer.

A violent shudder wracks Jensen's body as he flinches away from the touch, making a sound like a low, guttural whimper. Without much room to spare, he twists his head to the side and looks up at Jared, eyes pleading.

A disturbing thought occurs to Jared. "Are you stuck? Can you get out?"

Before he gets any answer from Jensen, the front door opens and Christian appears in the hallway, looking solid and determined even if slightly damp. "Where is he?"

Jared leaps off the dryer, lands wrong and barely avoids twisting his ankle. Grimacing, he points to the cramped space next to the dryer, "He's back there. But I think he's stuck."

The cop peers into the crevasse and grunts, "Shit." Then he lowers his voice and asks, "Hey kiddo, how'd you get yourself in there?"

Jensen whines and rocks back and forth, his shoulders knocking into the wall and the dryer in a perfect demonstration of exactly how jammed in he is.

"Can you reach him? Put those long arms to good use." Christian cocks an eyebrow at Jared.

"I can reach his feet if I kneel in front of the machine, but there's no way he's going to be able to back out. He must have gotten in by climbing up and over the side. If I try to pull on his legs it's probably going to hurt him and he'll only be stuck worse. I can reach his shoulders from the top, but the angle is tricky and I won't be able to get a good enough grip to pull him up."

Planting his feet wide, Christian puts both hands on top of the offending appliance. "Well, I guess we've got to pull the dryer out then. Can you get back up there and detach it from behind?"

"Yeah, but...fuck Chris..." Jared says under his breath with an apprehensive look over the side at Jensen's hunched and cowering form.

"Jared, it's the only way we're getting him out of there and you know it. The longer we wait the worse it's going to be for him. Think about it, he's probably been stuck in there for at least an hour already. Maybe longer."

His friend is right. Procrastinating isn't going to make this any easier. Raking a hand through his hair in exasperation, Jared nods. "Okay." Then he climbs up, disconnects the hose going to the vent and says, "We're going to get you out now, Jensen. Hold on, this will only take a couple minutes."

Both men get the best grip they can on the smooth, lacquered metal and heave.

Jensen screams.

The sound of it makes Jared's chest tighten and he has to bite his tongue to distract himself from the boy's fright long enough to help Christian get the dryer out of the alcove.

The dryer clangs to the ground as Jared releases his hold and falls to his knees next to his sweet, traumatized boy. Cautiously, he touches Jensen's shoulder, but instead of flinching away like he had last time, the teenager goes suddenly silent and limp, his body slack. Jared thinks maybe he's passed out from the continued stress and fear. When he gathers the boy into his arms, though, he sees Jensen's eyes are open, staring at nothing.

"It's okay, baby. Daddy's got you," he whispers. "I'll keep you safe. Nothing bad's going to happen to you ever again. I won't let it, I promise."

His promise is a binding oath, one he means with all his heart, one he knows will change him and define him and test him in ways he has only just begun to realize.

A/N:  The song Jared sings to a sobbing Jensen is Come What May from Moulin Rouge.  If you feel like listening to it - and why wouldn't you - you can find a version of it here:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=48BxXheDesw I'd love to hear from you.  Please leave me some feedback.  Only one more chapter to go. 


	8. Chapter 8

[](http://disneymagics.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/393/8143)

Hope of Innocents

_Epilogue - Two months later - December 25th - Christmas morning_

Jared flicks on the small lamp on the dresser and just stands there for a moment, taking in the sight of his sweet boy where he lies fast asleep in the sturdy crib. Jensen's favorite sleeping position is curled up in a ball inside a nest of blankets like a hibernating squirrel. Sometimes he burrows so far inside his mound of blankets that no part of him is visible. This morning though, a few tufts of his sandy-blond hair are sticking out. His hair has grown long in the two months he's been in Jared's care, a bit shaggy maybe, but it gives him a carefree, playful look and Jared likes to see him that way.

Crossing to the crib, he adjusts the railing to its lowest position. "Good morning, sweetie. Time to wake up."

He keeps his tone even and soft, despite his excitement. It's best not to wake Jensen too quickly. He still startles easily and, depending on the nature of his dreams, doesn't always remember where he is upon first waking. That's why Jared makes a point of speaking before touching him to wake him up.

Today is a special day - Jensen's first real Christmas - and Jared can hardly wait to share the wonder and joy of the day with him.

The things most people take for granted around the holidays are all new to Jensen. The Christmas tree holds endless fascination for him with its twinkling lights, colorful ornaments and wrapped presents. He can spend hours at a time simply staring at it, his eyes wide and bright.

Watching Jensen is like experiencing Christmas for the first time and Jared loves it, can't get enough of seeing Jensen's amazed reactions to sights, sounds and smells that have long ago lost their magic for Jared.

The mound of blankets begins to quake and an arm emerges, stretching lazily.

"Merry Christmas," Jared whispers as he peels away one of the blankets, uncovering Jensen's head.

Sleepy, green eyes regard him for a moment and then close again.

Jared chuckles. "Oh, so it's gonna be like that, is it?"

Some mornings, Jensen wakes up gasping and screaming in fright. Nightmares, although not as common as they used to be, still plague him with a frequency that has Jared using some very imaginative language to curse the terrified boy's parents.

This is a good morning though, a drowsy, indolent morning when they can both indulge in what has become a cherished daily ritual. Jared bundles Jensen up, blankets and all, and carries him to the newly purchased rocking chair. There he lets Jensen snuggle in his lap, all sleep-warm and pliant, head on his shoulder, as they glide backwards and forwards at a languorous pace. They rock and Jared absently runs his fingers through Jensen's hair, letting his thoughts wander.

"Do you remember what I told you happens on Christmas morning?" he asks when it feels like Jensen might be drifting off to sleep again.

He gets an uncertain shake of the head and a yawn in response.

"Christian and Misha will be coming over to watch you open all those presents you've been poking at for the last two weeks."

Stiffening, Jensen sticks his thumb in his mouth, something he seems to do to comfort himself when he's nervous or upset.

"It'll be fun. You'll like it; don't worry, sweetheart," Jared soothes, even as his own pulse rate quickens at the thought of what Jensen must have endured over the years to make him so skittish. In order to distract them both, Jared continues, "First, we'll change your diaper and then we'll eat breakfast - orange rolls from the bakery, the ones you like with the raisins."

Sticking to the normal schedule as closely as possible is going to be important today. There's going to be enough excitement without making things worse by ignoring the morning routine. Easily overwhelmed by change, Jensen will need some normalcy or they'll risk a meltdown.

Christian's knock comes soon after they've finished eating. Jensen looks like he wants to bolt at the sudden noise, but Jared doesn't give him the chance.

"That'll be Christian. He said he'd be over early this morning."

Jared picks Jensen up and goes to answer the door with the teenager's gangly legs wrapped around his waist and socked feet tucked against his thighs.

Loaded down with presents, Christian laughs when he sees them. "I don't know how you do that, man."

Jared shrugs. "It's not hard for those of us who are taller than 5'10" and work out regularly."

"Yeah, you're a regular Arnold Schwarzengger; the casting agents are gonna come knocking on your door any day now, begging you to come to Hollywood and become an actor so you can be the new Conan the Barbarian," Christian snorts, winking at Jensen. "Right, kiddo?"

Jensen ducks his head, but smiles as he looks up from under long lashes. He's been doing more of that lately - smiling.

"They already asked. I turned them down. Got my hands full right here, you know?" Jared plays along.

"Yeah, I can see that." The small package at the top of the pile in Christian's arms looks dangerously close to falling as he asks, "So, where should I put all this?"

"Under the tree with the others, of course."

"Of course," Christian mutters, dumping his armload on top of the other presents in a jumble of ribbons, bows and boxes.

"Jeez Kane, I hope there wasn't anything breakable in there."

"Naw, just a couple crystal vases and champagne flutes," Christian smirks. "Hey Jensen, come here, kiddo. I've got something I wanna show you."

Kneeling next to the tree, Christian waits until Jared puts Jensen down and the boy crawls up to him. Then he pulls something out of his pocket. A miniature snow globe.

Jared steps closer so he can get a better view. Inside is a perfect, tiny snowman, wearing a wee top hat and sporting an orange carrot nose.

"You take it." Christian holds the globe out to Jensen who makes no move to take it, just staring at it in fascination. "See, when you shake it, it snows." As he talks, Christian turns the globe upside down and then right side up again. Flakes of glittery snow swirl and dance around the snowman under its glass dome.

Jensen reaches out a tentative hand, mouth open.

Jared wants to cry at the childish yet timid gesture.

"That's right, now you hold it." Eyes suspiciously shiny, Christian encourages him by placing it in his open hand and then ruffles his hair.

Jensen closes both hands around the small object and holds it up to his face as if trying to see every detail, all his attention focused on the simple toy.

A lump grows in Jared's throat, breath catching, and he wonders how he's going to make it through the day without falling apart and making a complete fool of himself in front of Chris. The confusing part is, he's not sure where all the emotion is coming from. Is he happy because he's the one who gets to give Jensen this wonderful new experience? Or is he sad because most children have this experience when they're two years old?

Jensen is so engrossed in the snow globe that he doesn't react to the doorbell when Misha arrives.

On Misha's head is an electric-blue, knit hat. A matching pair of mittens cover his hands. He pulls them off and gives Jared a quick nod on his way past and into the living room.

Jared isn't hurt by the curt greeting. He knows who Misha is here to see.

"Hey Jensen," Misha says, settling on the floor nearby. "How've you been? Is your Daddy Jared treating you okay?"

His expression is serious - well, as serious as Misha's expressions ever seem to get - and Jared knows this is more than just an exchange of pleasantries. Misha really wants to make sure that Jensen is being well taken care of and nothing short of Jensen's own affirmation will satisfy him. The silly nickname for Jared is just a screen for how deadly serious Misha is.

Head tilted at a questioning angle, Jensen looks from Misha to Jared and back again. He nods, licks his lips and nods again. Then he holds the snow globe out for Misha to see.

To Jensen, the subject is obviously closed, but apparently Christian can't let it go without comment.

"Wait, so if he's Daddy Jared, what does that make me? Uncle Christian?"

"Yup, that's exactly what it makes you." Taking the toy from Jensen, Misha gives it a shake and admires it before handing it back.

"Uncle Christian," the cop mulls the name over and then slouches into the couch cushions, satisfied. "Yeah, I like it. But then who are you?"

"I'm just Misha," he says with a grin, as though his answer is the only obvious one.

Christian rolls his eyes so hard he looks like he's trying to see what's behind him without turning around.

Jared snorts, shaking his head, and goes into the kitchen to put some Christmas cookies on a plate. While he arranges an assortment of frosted sugar cookies, peanut butter kiss cookies, and cinnamon bars he mouths the name to himself again, 'Daddy Jared.' Corny. And yet...it feels right.

When he gets back to the living room, Christian is at one end of the couch and Misha is still on the floor, guiding Jensen through the series of exercises he's supposed to do to strengthen his leg muscles and keep them from atrophying. Usually, Jared helps Jensen with the exercises as part of their bedtime routine, but he figures it doesn't hurt for him to get some extra reps in.

He watches as Misha asks Jensen to roll onto his back and has him bend his knees and lift each leg in turn. Jensen is silent and obedient. A frown of concentration pulls his eyebrows into a little knot and Jared wonders what Jensen thinks of it all.

Each exercise is designed to keep his legs toned and fit for when he's ready to start walking. The physical therapist that Misha had learned them from will be seeing Jensen next month to gauge his progress and determine if any additional exercises need to be added to the regimen.

Setting the plate of cookies on the coffee table, Jared grabs one for himself, starts up the Christmas music collection from his iPod, and then relaxes into his comfy new couch.

Christian scoots forward to snag a handful of his own cookies and says, "You'll never guess who I heard from yesterday."

"Who?"

"Remember when I told you about the anonymous tip we got, alerting the precinct to the domestic violence at Jensen's house?"

"Yeah, you said a call came in from one of the neighbors, but he didn't want to identify himself."

Stuffing an entire cookie into his mouth, Christian somehow manages to say, "That's right. Well, apparently the guy's had second thoughts. He saw the Ackles' getting arrested back in October and, now that the trial date is coming up, he's decided he wants to testify against them." He chews and swallows. "Not that we really need it since I was there and saw it all go down. Still, the guy wants to do the right thing so I gotta give him credit for that." In a much lower voice, he says, "Plus, without his tip I wouldn't have been there in the first place and Jensen, well...you know how that might have turned out."

He does.

Jared turns away from watching Jensen complete his exercises to give Christian his full attention. "So, you got a name? If nothing else I'd like to buy him a beer. Thank him, you know."

"Name's Murray. First name starts with a 'C' I think. Charlie? No Chad. Chad Murray. I'll ask him if he wants to get together sometime for a beer when I talk to him again. I'm supposed to call him back tomorrow to set a date for him to come in and give his statement."

Jingle Bell Rock is playing through his iPod docking station speakers. This song always makes Jared want to dance around the house, but he contents himself with merely bopping his head along to the music. Misha finishes up with Jensen while Christian demolishes almost the entire plate of cookies.

"Is it time to open the presents yet?" Christian asks, eyes gleaming.

Jared senses it too - the unbridled joy of anticipation, the pure excitement of Christmas morning and a pile of presents. A family to share it all with. These are emotions he hasn't had in so long that he barely remembers them from all those years ago. It's almost as if he's feeling it all for the first time.

"Yeah, it's time to open presents. Just a few to start off with," he cautions. "There are a lot here and Jensen might feel some pressure with all of us staring at him."

Rummaging around in the stack of presents, Jared searches until he finds the one he's looking for. "Come up here on the couch with us, Jensen. I've got something special for you."

*~*~*~~*~*~*

_Jensen_

The really tall man who gives him food and holds him sometimes and makes him feel safe...daddy...is holding up a box. It's covered in red paper and has a white ribbon tied around it. Jensen recognizes the box because it's the first one that had appeared under the inside-the-house tree. Jensen hadn't been able to resist the shiny red paper and had been drawn in by the delicate bow. He'd picked it up to look at it closer that first day, but afterwards he'd made sure to put it back exactly where he'd found it.

"Here Jensen. It's for you."

The man - daddy - puts the box in Jensen's hands, but Jensen's not sure what he's supposed to do with it. Is he in trouble for playing with it before? Is daddy showing him where the ribbon got moved the first time he'd picked it up so he knows why he has to be punished? Is this when the yelling starts again? The hitting?

They've been nice to him so far, but that could end at any time. Now that his stomach doesn't hurt as badly, the beatings will probably start up again. They've probably only been waiting for him to do something wrong so they can send him back to the mean place. He's been waiting for that to happen.

With trembling hands, Jensen tries to give the box back, but daddy won't take it.

Jensen looks at the man who calls him 'kiddo' and stops the scary people from hurting him. Maybe he'll help. Maybe he'll understand that Jensen hadn't meant to ruin the ribbon, he hadn't known he wasn't allowed to touch it. He holds out the box to him, careful not to move the ribbon any more, and hopes it's enough to keep the punishment from happening. The terrible too-scared-can't-breathe feeling wells up, choking him, clamping an ice-cold vise around his ribcage. Squeezing.

"Do you want me to help you open it?"

Help. Yes, he wants help.

Jensen nods while using one hand to shield his stomach where the skin around his scar is beginning to prickle. It does that sometimes.

A gentle arm wraps around his shoulders, warm and reassuring, and it's like being wrapped in a blanket. Sheltered. Safe. The vise-like constriction loosens a little. He lets himself take comfort from the contact, melts into it, because he doesn't know when he'll be allowed to have it again. Each moment of tenderness he gets could be his last and he wants to savor each one, store them away for later. He's going to miss this so much when it's gone.

The voice that speaks to him is a low whisper, not the angry shout he expects.

"No problem, kiddo, I've gotcha covered. All you have to do is pull on this. See?"

Reaching over, the man tugs on the ribbon and it comes undone. The little bow on top of the box unravels and the ribbon falls away.

Jensen inhales sharply. He looks over at daddy and daddy is making a not-mad face.

Not mad.

The ribbon is much worse now than it had been after he'd touched it the first time and daddy doesn't seem to be looking for something to hit him with. There are no fingers pointing at him and the eyes watching him have soft crinkles around the edges instead of hard furrows.

So...maybe he isn't going to be punished after all.

It's strange and Jensen feels disoriented, like he's spinning in circles with no way of knowing which way he's facing. All his reference points have disappeared and he's just so confused. What is he supposed to do?

The shudder that goes through him then causes the box to slip from his hands and it lands with a muted thump in his lap.

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea," daddy says, reaching for the box. "I-I thought he would like this, but...I didn't think it through. He's obviously not having fun." Daddy's voice sounds kind of wobbly.

The third man, the one who had stopped his stomach from hurting so much on the ride to the hospital, shakes his head. "No, he can do this. Let him do it."

Strong hands take both of his and put them back on the box. "Rip the paper, Jensen. Daddy and Uncle Christian and I _want_ you to open the box. Find out what's inside, okay? It's for you."

Oh.

Jensen does what they want him to do.

Inside the box is something fluffy and white. It must have been alone in the dark since Jensen first saw the box under the tree. And that's been days. Trapped. Ignored. Forgotten. Jensen's eyes water in empathy. He knows just how that feels.

Plunging his hand in the box, he pulls out a stuffed rabbit with long ears, floppy arms and dangling legs. It has a small, downturned mouth and large eyes that make it look a little bit sad and a little bit scared. The poor thing looks like it's starved for any type of affection. [](http://disneymagics.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/393/8480)

Jensen cradles it to his chest, wrapping his arms around it and holding it tightly. Don't be frightened, bunny, he thinks. I won't make you go back into the box. It'll be okay, now. With eyes scrunched closed, he clutches the fluffy toy and concentrates on taking one breath after another.

"He belonged to Megan." He hears daddy say quietly.

"Does he have a name? I think he deserves a name."

"She used to call him snowflake, I guess because he's white."

"He looks too serious to be named snowflake."

There's a tap on his shoulder and when he opens his eyes, Jensen sees the man from the hospital ride sitting on the floor in front of him.

"Can I see him for a minute, Jensen? I won't keep him; I'll give him right back."

Reluctantly, Jensen lets him take the stuffed bunny out of his arms.

The man purses his lips and stares into the bunny's fuzzy face. Then he tilts his head and holds the rabbit up to his ear, nodding, as if listening intently.

"He says his name is Snowflake, Snowflake Bun, but he prefers to be called Mr. Bun because of all the things he's been through. Some very bad things have happened to him. And right now he's shy and sometimes he's scared." The bunny hides its head behind its paws.

Pulse racing, Jensen's vision begins to swim and he sticks his thumb in his mouth. The lights on the inside-the-house tree seem to shimmer out of focus and dim.

"Misha...I don't think-" someone says from very far away.

"But he won't always be this timid. He knows things are different now. He now has people around him who love him and they're going to take care of him. He's going to start feeling better and not be so frightened all the time."

A white face peeks out, the paws lower and Jensen believes he sees whiskers twitching as though the bunny is testing the air for danger.

"And one day he'll get over all the horrible things that have happened to him. One day he'll stand tall and proud."

Jensen watches, spellbound, heart hammering, as the stuffed animal straightens and appears to shake off its fear.

"So he figures he should be called Mr. Bun and that way he'll always remember who he's meant to be. Who he will be one day."

A sob catches in Jensen's throat. He pulls his legs up to his chest and curls into a ball, eyes shut, body stiff.

Then he's scooped up and cradled just as he'd cradled Mr. Bun.

He hears daddy saying, "It's okay if you're not ready yet, baby. You take all the time you need. But one day. One day."

**The End.** A/N:  I **hope** you've enjoyed the story and that you'll leave some feedback. [](http://disneymagics.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/393/8733)


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